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Faust 

A  Dramatic  Poem 


"  /  sit 

yer 


C^e 


Cragefcp  of  jfaust 


BY 


J.  W.  Von  Goethe 

Translated  by 

Sir  Theodore   Martin 
Volume  I. 


Edited  by  Nathan  Haskell  Dole 


Boston    <£    Francis    A.     Niccolls 
mpanv     &     Publishers 


lEtJitton  Dr  6ranti  Huxe 

This  Edition  is  Limited  to  Two  Hundred  and  Fifty 
Copies,  of  which  this  is  copy 

No- .5.4 


Copyright,  i()02 
By  Francis  A.  Niccolls  &  Co. 


Colonial  Press 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 

Boston,  Mass..  U   S.  A. 


5RLF 
URL 

pr 

TO   J.   ANTHONY   FKOUDE 

Dear  friend  of  many  years,  accept 

This  book,  which  into  life  has  crept 

In  hours  that  have  been  snatched  from  those 

Were  due  to  dearly  earned  repose. 

Well  do  I  know  how  deep  and  strong 

Your  reverence  is  for  Goethe's  song, 

And  how  the  problems,  thickly  sown 

Throughout  this  book  of  his,  have  grown 

Familiar  to  your  thought  and  tongue 

As  the  rare  words  in  which  they're  sung. 

You  know  —  who  better  ?  —  all  that  gives 

This  book  its  charm,  the  grace  that  lives 

And  breathes  throughout  its  perfect  verse, 

The  saws  sarcastic,  vivid,  terse, 

The  wild  wit  flashing  to  and  fro, 

The  varied  lore,  the  sunny  glow 

Of  fancy  and  of  passion,  fit 

To  glorify  the  exquisite 

Conception  of  a  Helen  meet 

To  make  Faust's  dream  of  bliss  complete,  — 

The  tender  beauty  of  the  thought 

That  his  deliverance  should  be  wrought 

By  her  who  could  in  death  forget 

The  wrong  he  did  her  —  Margaret, 

And  twined  his  soul  with  hers  by  love 

Eternal,  pure,  in  realms  above. 

You,  too,  can  measure  well  how  great 

His  perils  are,  who  would  translate 

The  thoughts  on  aptest  language  strung, 

And  wed  them  to  another  tongue. 

But  you,  like  all  true  Masters,  will 

Look  gently  on  my  lack  of  skill, 

And  with  a  large  allowance  take 

My  effort  for  our  friendship's  sake. 

vii 


List   of  Illustrations 

PAGE 
"I      SIT      AND      PONDER      ONE      ONLY      THOUGHT"      (See 

page  167)  .  .....  Frontispiece 

"  He  sleeps  !  Well  done,  ye  little  airy  sprites  !  "    09 
ii  My  pretty  lady,  permit  me,  do,  my  escort 

AND    ARM    TO    OFFER    YOU  !  "  .  .  -  .       125 

"And  now  I,  too,  in  sin  am  lost"  .         .         .     178 

"  'tls  but  a  magic  shape,  a  lifeless  wraith  "     .     205 
"  Thy  lover  here  lies  prostrate  at  thy  feet  "      220 


Introduction 

Whether  Goethe  should  or  should  not  have  left 
his  "  Faust "  a  fragment,  closing  with  the  death  of 
Margaret,  is  a  question  which  has  occasioned  much 
controversy  among  his  admirers.  But  there  will 
always  be  many  —  and  their  number  is  more  likely  to 
increase  than  diminish  —  who  will  think  that  Goethe 
was  himself  the  best  judge  of  what  was  right,  and 
that  if  he  considered  it  essential,  as  unquestionably 
he  did,  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  scheme  on  which 
the  First  Part  of  his  great  dramatic  poem  was  based, 
that  he  should  give  in  his  own  way  the  solution  of 
the  problem  how  Faust  was  to  be  extricated  from 
the  toils  of  the  Evil  One,  into  which  he  had  plunged 
himself  in  a  mood  of  weariness  and  despair,  it  can- 
not be  otherwise  than  worth  the  while  of  literary 
students  to  make  themselves  familiar  with  what  he 
had  to  say,  whether  they  are  satisfied  or  not  with 
the  way  in  which  the  Faust  legend  is  illustrated,  and 
the  redemption  of  its  hero  is  worked  out. 

It  has  been  too  much  the  habit  of  English  readers 
to  accept  the  eulogies  of  the  Second  Part  of  the 
"  Faust "  at  second  hand,  and  to  decline  to  go  through 
the  fatigue  of  reading  it  with  the  care  which  it  de- 
mands, and  so  following  the  destinies  of  Faust  to  the 
close.  Nor,  perhaps,  is  this  greatly  to  be  wondered 
at.  The  scheme  of  the  book,  teeming  as  it  does  with 
allusions  to  science,  mythology,  history,  and  art,  unfits 
it  for  any  but  a  highly  educated  and  patient  class  of 
readers.      It  was  avowedly  for  readers  of  this   class 

ix 


x  INTRODUCTION 

only  that  it  was  written  ;  and  even  for  them  it  presents 
many  passages  difficult  to  interpret,  many  allusions 
hard  to  understand,  and  intricate  problems  which 
are  not  to  be  resolved  without  some  effort  of  brain. 
Commentaries  have  sprung  up,  almost  as  voluminous 
as  those  under  which  the  texts  of  Dante  and  of  Shake- 
speare have  long  groaned.  These,  not  a  few  of  them  at 
least,  have  had  the  usual  result  of  aggravating  the  ob- 
scurity which  they  profess  to  clear  away,  so  that  we 
are  thrown  back  upon  the  poem  itself  to  gather  such 
meanings  and  suggestions  as  our  own  reason  or  im- 
agination can  help  us  to.  And,  after  all,  these  are 
quite  sufficient  for  the  enjoyment  of  what  is  really 
valuable  in  the  poem.  Such  parts  of  it  as  demand 
the  exposition  of  elaborate  commentary,  most  lovers 
of  poetry  will  agree,  can  scarcely  deserve  one.  The 
moment  poetry  begins  to  deal  in  mysticism  or  phil- 
osophical problems,  and  to  demand  elaborate  exposition, 
it  ceases  to  be  poetry.  A  natural  instinct  impels  us 
to  give  all  such  rhymed  obscurities  the  go-by,  and 
to  settle  upon  the  flowers  about  whose  fragrance  and 
beauty  there  can  be  no  mistake. 

Of  these  this  work  presents  an  abundance  sufficient 
to  satisfy  the  most  exacting  taste.  But  to  enjoy  it 
thoroughly,  the  reader  must  bring  both  cultivated 
intelligence,  and  sympathy  with  the  poetic  faculty 
in  its  higher  development.  Those  who  want  strong 
human  interest  must  go  elsewhere.  They  will  not 
find  it  here.  The  whole  action  lies  within  "  the 
limits  of  the  sphere  of  dream."  Even  Faust  and 
Mephistopheles  are  but  as  phantasms  moving  among 
phantasms.  The  pulses  of  the  fatal  passion,  which 
resulted  in  the  tragic  ending  of  poor  Margaret,  are 
but  poorly  compensated  by  the  fine  frenzy  of  Faust 
for  the  Helen  of  antiquity.  It  is  his  imagination,  not 
his  heart,  that  is  on  fire.  Ours  also  kindles  before  the 
exquisite  painting  of  the  poet,  which  sets  every  figure 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

in  his  drama  before  us  as  vividly  as  could  have  been 
done  by  the  chisel  of  Phidias  or  the  pencil  of  Titian. 
We  are  grateful  for  the  rich  series  of  pictures  which 
he  has  passed  before  our  eyes,  but  they  leave  no  im- 
pression on  our  heart  like  the  ineradicable  pang  of  one 
such  stroke  of  pathos  as  Margaret's 

"  Bin  ich  doch  noch  so  jung,  so  jung  ! 
Und  soil  schon  sterben  !  " 

Again,  for  those  who  seek  in  the  "  Faust "  a  solution 
of  the  great  problem  of  life,  the  result  at  which  Goethe 
seems  to  arrive  is,  we  venture  to  think,  neither  very 
startling  nor  very  novel.  It  is  no  more  than  the  truth, 
which  wise  men  of  all  ages  have  preached,  that  by 
those  who  aspire  beyond  the  enjoyment  of  selfish  tastes, 
intellectual  or  sensual  happiness  is  only  to  be  reached 
through  active  beneficence,  through  the  application  of 
knowledge  and  power  to  the  welfare  of  mankind. 
Wliile  Faust  pored  in  his  study  over  musty  volumes 
of  medicine,  jurisprudence,  and  theology,  the  accumu- 
lation of  such  knowledge  as  they  taught  brought  only 
bitterness  of  heart,  and  a  feeling  that  it  satisfied  none 
of  the  higher  aspirations  of  his  nature.  When  Faust, 
in  his  old  age,  takes  to  reclaiming  land  from  the  sea, 
to  building  harbours,  and  making  hundreds  of  his 
fellow  creatures  happy,  then  the  cravings  of  his  heart 
are  for  the  first  time  satisfied.  With  the  prospect 
before  him  of  the  good  to  follow  from  his  philanthropic 
schemes,  he  sees  the  moment  at  hand,  which  in  his 
study  he  had  not  believed  could  ever  come,  when  he 
should  say  to  it  — 

"Verweile  doch  !  du  bist  so  schon  !  " 

and  be  content  to  die.  It  is  not  Mephistopheles,  but 
Faust's  own  internal  development,  that  has  wrought 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

this  result ;  and  thus  the  condition  is  never  fulfilled 
which  entitled  Mephistopheles  to  claim  his  soul. 

Another  important  but  by  no  means  novel  truth 
Goethe  may  also  have  meant  to  enforce.  It  is  one 
which  is  tolerably  sure  to  have  been  reached  by  every 
man  who  has  learned  to  place  his  happiness  in  helping 
toward  the  happiness  of  others  —  namely,  that  it  is 
not  here  on  earth  that  the  soul  can  look  for  satisfaction. 
In  a  higher  sense  than  was  present  to  the  mind  of 
Ulysses  in  Tennyson's  poem, 


"  All  experience  is  an  arch,  -wherethrough 
Gleams  that  untravelled  world,  whose  margin  fades 
For  ever  and  for  ever,  as  we  move." 


Problems  thicken  upon  us  the  more  we  see,  the 
more  we  think,  the  more  we  feel,  of  which  the  solution 
is  not  to  be  found  within  "  this  visible  diurnal  sphere." 
It  is,  in  truth,  only  by  the  hope  that  these  will  be 
solved  in  that  immortal  life  of  which  this  of  earth 
is  but  an  initial  stage,  that  existence  is  made  endurable 
to  those  who  suffer,  and  to  those  who  think.  This 
hope  it  was  which,  in  the  case  of  Socrates,  for  example, 
while  it  reconciled  him  to  life,  robbed  death  of  its 
terrors,  in  the  assurance  that  with  death  came  the 
dawn  of  a  brighter  and  nobler  existence,  of  which 
the  happiest  experiences  of  this  world  were  but  feeble 
symbols,  and  in  which  he  should  see  realised  the 
things  for  which  his  soul  had  yearned  on  earth  in  vain. 
Almost  the  last  words  of  the  present  poem  point  to 
the  same  faith,  the  Chorus  Mysticus  singing,  as  Faust 
is  borne  into  the  heavenly  sphere  — 

"  Alles  Vergangliche 
1st  nur  ein  Gleichniss  ; 
Das  Unzulangliche 
Hier  wird  Ereigniss  !  " 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

These  lines,  and  the  lines  that  follow,  which  tell  of  a 
God  who  cares  for  the  creatures  of  his  hand,  and  who 
has  prepared  for  them  better  things  than  all  that  they 
can  ask  or  think,  may,  in  our  opinion,  be  fairly  re- 
garded as  indicating  the  main  drift  of  what  Goethe 
had  in  view  in  concluding  his  version  of  the  Faust 
legend  in  the  way  he  did. 

If  this  be  so,  then  it  is  no  doubt  satisfactory  to 
have  his  assent  to  this  view  of  human  life,  and  of 
human  destiny ;  but  it  is  no  new  discovery,  and  it 
has  been  enforced  more  clearly  and  emphatically  from 
many  familiar  quarters. 

Looking  upon  the  poem  in  this  light,  we  quite  under- 
stand, although  we  do  not  share,  the  feeling  expressed 
by  Stieglitz,  Lewes,  and  others,  that  it  would  have 
been  better  had  the  ultimate  destiny  of  Faust  been 
left  in  the  uncertainty  in  which  Goethe  left  it  at  the 
end  of  the  First  Part  with  Margaret's 

"  Heinrich  !     Mir  graut's  vor  dir," 

and  the  cry  of  piteous  pathos,  "  Heinrich  !  Heinrich  ! " 
from 

"  The  voice  from  within,  dying  away." 

with  which  the  poem  closes.  This,  however,  would 
have  been  the  mere  statement  of  the  problem,  not  the 
solution  of  it ;  and  to  have  left  his  conception  in  this 
unfinished  state  would  have  been  wholly  inconsistent 
with  the  poet's  purpose  as  indicated  in  the  Prologue 
in  Heaven,  which  gives  the  key-note  to  the  whole 
composition. 

As  an  artist  Goethe  could  never  have  been  content 
to  leave  his  work  incomplete.  Happily,  therefore,  for 
those  to  whom  poetry  is  something  more  than  a  mere 
amusement  of  the  fancy  or  stimulus  of  the  emotions, 
he  determined    to    grapple   with    every   detail   of  the 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

legend,  as  it  grew  through  successive  stages  into  a 
development,  which  enabled  him  to  call  into  play  all 
the  resources  of  his  imagination  and  of  his  consummate 
literary  skill.  Thus  he  gave  us  in  this  book  some 
of  his  finest  conceptions,  and,  beyond  all  doubt,  his 
most  exquisite  workmanship.  One  can  bear  much 
that  is  tedious  and  obscure,  sometimes  perhaps  even 
trivial,  for  the  sake  of  such  scenes  as  that  in  which 
Helen  and  Paris  are  evoked  before  the  Emperor's  Court, 
the  whole  of  the  Classical  Walpurgis  Night,  and  the 
Intermezzo  of  Helena.  The  dream  of  ideal  beauty 
which  since  Homer's  time  has  been  associated  with 
the  name  of  Helen,  has  given  rise  to  many  a  fine  pas- 
sage in  poetry,  of  which  none  perhaps  is  more  vividly 
remembered  than  the  splendid  apostrophe  of  Marlowe's 
Faust  to 

"  The  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burned  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium." 

But  Goethe  was  too  deeply  penetrated  by  the  idea  of 
that  "  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely  tall,  and  most 
divinely  fair,"  to  be  content  with  disposing  so  lightly 
as  Marlowe  did  of  her  relation  to  Faust  as  he  found  it 
indicated  in  the  old  legend.  Helen  is  to  the  Second 
Part  of  "  Faust "  what  Margaret  was  to  the  First,  — 
the  centre  upon  which  its  interest  turns;  and  upon 
this  creation  Goethe  put  forth  all  his  powers.  The 
passionate  worship  of  beauty  in  and  for  itself  kindles 
the  verse  wherever  Helen  appears  or  is  referred  to, 
even  as  the  passion  of  Pygmalion  gave  life  to  the 
marble  he  had  chiselled  into  form.  The  conception 
of  the  Helena,  as  wrought  out  here,  was  manifestly 
in  Goethe's  mind  when  he  wrote  the  First  Part ;  for 
it  is  clearly  a  vision  of  her  supreme  beauty,  and  not 
of  Margaret,  as  the  ordinary  stage  misrepresentations 
of  the  "  Faust  "  would  have  us  believe,  that  is  presented 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

to  Faust  in  the  inagic  mirror  of  the  Witches'  Kitchen, 
when  he  exclaims : 

"  What  form  divine  is  this,  that  seems  to  live 
Within  this  magic  glass  before  mine  eyes  ? 
Oh,  love,  to  me  thy  swiftest  pinion  give, 
And  waft  me  to  the  region  where  she  lies ! 


A  woman's  form,  beyond  expression  fair  ! 

Can  woman  be  so  fair  ?     Or  must  I  deem 

In  this  recumbent  form  I  see  revealed 

The  quintessence  of  all  the  heavens  can  yield  ? 

On  earth  can  aught  be  found  of  beauty  so  supreme  ?  " 

All  may  not  agree  in  admiration  of  the  machinery  by 
which  this  vision  is  made  a  reality,  and  Helena  is 
brought  back  from  the  shades  to  become  the  bride  of 
Faustus  for  a  time.  But  no  one  can  question  the 
admirable  skill  with  which  Goethe,  by  a  series  of 
subtle  touches,  fills  the  imagination  with  the  full  rich 
beauty,  the  stately  grace,  and  the  resistless  charm  of 
her  who  "  brought  calamity  where'er  she  came."  What- 
ever the  shortcomings  of  the  poem  in  other  respects 
may  be,  in  all  that  bears  upon  this  part  of  it  the 
matured  strength  of  a  great  artist  is  everywhere  ap- 
parent, combined  with  a  freshness  and  force  winch, 
considering  the  time  of  life  at  which  it  was  written, 
are  little  less  than  wonderful. 

Who,  again,  would  be  content  to  miss  from  litera- 
ture the  noble  last  act  of  the  poem,  —  the  scene,  for 
example,  in  which  Faust  is  smitten  by  blindness ;  or 
still  more,  the  hymns  which  accompany  his  transport 
to  heaven,  and  the  vision  of  Gretchen,  whose  own 
bliss  could  not  be  perfected  until  she  saw  him,  purified 
from  the  dross  of  earth,  and  accepted  as  not  unworthy 
of  the  forgiveness  which  had  been  vouchsafed  to  her- 
self ?  Only  those  to  whom  the  original  German  has 
become  a  second  language  can  know  how  perfect  in 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

feeling  and  in  rhythmical  expression  these  hymns  are  ; 
but  those  who  have  not  this  advantage  may  catch  some 
glimpses  of  their  beauty  through  a  translation,  although 
all  translation  of  such  work  as  this  must  of  necessity 
be  more  or  less  a  failure. 

More  than  twenty  years  ago  the  present  translator 
printed  for  private  circulation  a  version  of  the  Classical 
Walpurgis  Night,  and  the  Intermezzo  of  The  Helena. 
Having  subsequently  translated  the  First  Part  of  the 
drama,  he  naturally  wished  to  complete  his  self-imposed 
task.  Not  till  recently  has  he  been  able  to  resume 
this  labour  of  love.  None  but  an  enthusiast  for  Goethe 
would,  he  frankly  admits,  undertake  such  a  task  ;  and 
even  he,  however  great  his  qualifications,  must  be 
often  tempted  to  throw  down  his  pen  in  despair.  To 
reproduce  satisfactorily  even  a  few  pages  of  this  work 
would  be  a  crucial  effort  to  the  most  accomplished 
translator.  In  none  of  Goethe's  works  are  the  mar- 
vellous beauty  and  finish  of  his  style  carried  to  a 
higher  point.  In  many  parts  the  charm  lies  almost 
exclusively  in  the  execution ;  and  a  translator  may 
well  despair  of  making  his  readers  tolerant  of  the 
matter  by  rivalling  the  exquisite  manner  of  the  original, 
with  all  the  odds  so  heavily  against  him  in  the  much 
less  plastic  character  of  our  language  as  compared  with 
the  German.  And  when  Goethe  is  at  his  best,  he  is 
simply  untranslatable.  Such  as  it  is,  the  present  ver- 
sion is  offered,  in  the  hope  that  it  may  assist  English 
readers  in  the  study  of  what  Goethe  regarded  as  the 
master-work  of  his  life. 


Faust 


DEDICATION 

Ye  come,  dim  forms,  as  in  youth's  early  day 

Ye  blessed  these  eyes,  which  now  so  lonely  grieve ! 

Still,  still,  to  hold  ye  fast  shall  I  essay, 
Still  let  my  heart  to  that  delusion  cleave ! 

Ye  throng  me  round  !     Well !  lord  it  how  ye  may, 
As  from  the  mists  ye  rise,  that  round  me  weave ! 

Ye  waft  a  magic  air,  that  shakes  my  breast 

With  youth's  tumultuous,  yet  divine,  unrest. 

Visions  ye  bring  with  you  of  happy  days, 

And  many  a  dear,  dear,  shade  ascends  to  view ; 

Like  some  faint  haunting  chime  of  ancient  lays, 

Come  love,  first  love,  and  friendship  back  with  you. 

The  heart  runs  back  o'er  life's  bewildered  maze, 
And  pangs,  long  laid  to  sleep,  awake  anew, 

And  name  the  loved  ones  lost,  —  before  their  day 

Swept,  whilst  life  yet  was  beautiful,  away. 

Alas,  alas !  These  strains  they  cannot  hear, 
The  souls  to  whom  my  earliest  lays  I  sang ; 

Gone  is  that  loving  band  of  friends  so  dear, 
The  echoes  hushed,  that  once  responsive  rang ; 

My  numbers  fall  upon  the  stranger's  ear, 
Whose  very  praise  is  to  my  heart  a  pang, 

And  all,  who  in  my  lays  took  pride  of  yore, 

Are  lost  in  other  lands,  or  else  no  more. 


2  FAUST 

And  yearnings  fill  my  soul,  unwonted  long, 
To  yonder  still,  sad,  spirit-world  to  go ; 

Now,  like  iEolian  harp,  my  faltering  song 
Rises  and  falls  in  fitful  cadence  low ; 

A  shudder  thrills  me,  as  old  memories  throng, 

The  strong  heart  melts,  tears  fast  on  tear-drops  flow, 

What  still  is  mine  seems  far,  far  off  to  be, 

And  what  has  vanished  lives  anew  for  me. 


Prelude  at  the   Theatre 


> 


Prelude   at   the   Theatre 

Manager. 
Poet  of  the  Theatre.     Merryman. 

MANAGER. 

Old  Mends  and  true,  my  proved  allies 
In  times  of  trouble  and  of  need, 
Say  how  you  think  our  enterprise 
Will  here  on  German  soil  succeed. 
My  aim  and  chief  delight  would  be 
To  please  the  crowd,  especially 
As  "  Live  and  let  live  "  is  their  creed. 
Our  booth  is  up,  both  wind  and  water  tight, 
And  all  are  looking  forward  to  a  treat : 
Even  now  they  sit,  with  eyebrows  raised,  and  quite 
For  marvels  primed,  to  lift  them  off  their  feet. 
Well  know  I  how  to  hit  the  public  taste, 
Yet  ne'er  felt  so  perplexed  as  now  I  feel ; 
'Tis  true,  they're  not  accustomed  to  the  best, 
But  then  the  rogues  have  read  an  awful  deal. 
How  to  contrive,  then,  something  fresh  and  new, 
To  set  them  thinking,  yet  amuse  them  too  ? 
For,  sooth,  it  glads  my  heart  the  crowd  to  view, 
When,  setting  toward  our  booth  with  streamlike  rush, 
They  pour  along,  wave  coursing  wave,  and  through 
The  narrow  doorway  elbow,  squeeze,  and  crush : 
When  in  broad  day,  by  three,  or  even  before, 
They  make  a  dash  at  the  pay-taker's  wicket, 
Like  starving  men,  that  storm  a  baker's  door 
For  bread,  their  ribs  imperilling  for  a  ticket. 

5 


6  FAUST 

This  miracle  on  men  so  various  may 

The  poet  only  work.     Work  thou  it,  friend,  to-day ! 

POET. 

Oh,  tell  me  not  of  yonder  motley  crew, 
Which  scares  our  spirit  with  its  aspect  coarse, 
Yon  surging  crowd,  oh,  veil  it  from  my  view, 
Which  in  its  eddies  drags  us  down  perforce  ! 
No,  lead  me  to  some  heaven-calm  nook,  where  true 
Delight  hath  for  the  bard  alone  its  source, 
Where  love  and  friendship  wake,  refine,  expand 
Our  heart's  blest  blessings  with  celestial  hand. 

What  there  has  touched  the  spirit's  inward  ear, 
And  on  the  lips  a  trembling  echo  found, 
Uncertain  now,  now  full,  perchance,  and  clear, 
Is  in  the  wild  world's  dizzying  tumult  drowned. 
Oft  only  after  throes  of  year  on  year 
With  perfect  form  our  spirit's  dream  is  crowned ; 
The  showy  lives  its  little  hour  ;  the  true 
To  after-times  bears  rapture  ever  new. 

MERRYMAN. 

Truce  to  this  prate  of  after-times  !     Were  I 

Of  after-times  to  babble  thus,  why,  who 

With  fun  would  these  our  present  times  supply  ? 

Yet  fun  they  will  have,  and  with  reason,  too. 

A  jovial  presence,  readiness,  address, 

Go  far,  believe  me,  to  command  success. 

He  that  can  put  what  he  has  got  to  say 

Into  the  compass  of  a  pleasant  piece, 

And  send  his  points  home  well,  he,  come  what  may, 

Will  ne'er  be  soured  by  popular  caprice. 

He  wants  a  large  wide  public  for  his  sphere ; 

There  burns  his  genius  with  a  tenfold  ardour, 

For  there,  he  knows,  he's  sure  to  catch  their  ear, 


FAUST  7 

To  move  them  deeper,  and  to  hit  them  harder. 
Coragio,  then,  —  to  work !  and  let  them  see 
The  very  type  of  what  a  piece  should  be. 
Fancy  with  all  her  ministering  train,  — 
Thought,  Eeason,  Feeling,  Passion,  Melancholy,  — 
Make  these  to  speak,  each  in  her  proper  strain, 
And  last,  not  least,  forget  not,  mark  me,  Folly ! 

MANAGER. 

But  put,  be  sure,  whatever  else  you  may, 

Enough  of  incident  into  your  play, 

Plenty  to  look  at,  —  that's  what  people  like, 

'Tis  what  they  come  for ;  dazzle,  then,  their  eyes 

With  bustle,  plot,  spectacle,  —  things  that  strike 

The  multitude  with  open-mouthed  surprise. 

"  Superb  !  subhme  ! "   they  cry,  "  what  breadth  !  what 

power ! " 
And  you  become  the  lion  of  the  hour. 
Only  by  mass  can  you  subdue  the  masses, 
A  sop  for  every  taste,  for  every  bent ; 
He  that  brings  much  brings  something  for  all  classes, 
And  everybody  quits  the  house  content. 
If  you're  to  give  a  piece,  in  pieces  give  it ! 
With  a  ragout  like  that  succeed  you  must. 
To  serve  it  up  so  is  quite  easy  —  just 
As  easy  anyhow  as  to  invent  it. 
In  one  organic  whole  though  you  present  it, 
Harmonious  and  compact,  it  little  matters ; 
The  public's  sure  to  tear  it  into  tatters, 
Blur  every  tint,  and  every  joint  unrivet. 

POET. 

You  do  not  feel  how  all  unworthy  is 
Such  vulgar  handicraftsman's  work  as  this ; 
How  little  consonant  with  every  aim 
That  spurs  the  genuine  artist  on  to  fame. 


FAUST 


Mere  paltry  patchwork,  gaudy,  and  unreal, 
Run  up  at  random  by  your  bungling  fool, 
Alas !  too  well,  I  see,  is  your  ideal. 
Approved  by  choice  and  justified  by  rule. 


MANAGEK. 

Rail  on  !  I  care  not  how  you  thrust. 

Whoe'er  would  work  to  purpose  must 

Choose  tools  that  best  his  purpose  fit. 

Think  what  soft  wood  you  have  to  split, 

And  only  look  for  whom  you  write. 

One  comes  to  seek  a  brief  respite 

From  ennui,  if  he  can,  and  vapours ; 

Another,  stupid  from  a  heavy  meal, 

And,  what  is  worse  than  all  a  deal, 

Scores  fresh  from  reading  magazines  and  papers. 

They  rush  to  us  as  to  a  masquerade, 

Quite  in  the  cue  for  dissipation, 

And  the  mere  prospect  of  a  new  sensation 

Wings  all  their  footsteps,  man  and  maid. 

The  ladies,  in  their  best  arrayed, 

Think  only  how  to  catch  the  eye, 

And  with  our  own  performers  vie, 

Themselves  performers,  though  unpaid. 

Your  poet-dreams,  your  soarings  high, 

Oh,  they  were  there  appropriate,  very  ! 

Zounds,  do  you  fancy  these  will  ever  draw 

A  bumper  house,  or  make  it  merry  ? 

Regard  your  patrons  closely.     Why, 

They're  one  half  cold,  the  other  raw. 

One's  longing  for  the  play  to  end, 

That  he  may  have  his  game  of  cards  in  quiet, 

Another's  eager  to  be  off,  to  spend 

The  night  upon  a  wench's  lap  in  riot. 

Why  then,  ye  simpletons,  for  such  a  pack 

Put  the  sweet,  gracious  Muses  on  the  rack  ? 


FAUST  I 

I  tell  you,  only  give  enough  to  hear  and  see, 

No  matter  what  the  quality  may  be ! 

And  you  can  never  miss  your  mark.     Contrive 

To  keep  folks'  curiosity  alive, 

Their  senses  stun,  and  mystify  their  brains  ; 

To  satisfy  them's  more  than  man  can  do. 

How  !     What's  amiss  ?     Are  these  poetic  pains, 

Or  stomach-qualms,  that  have  got  hold  of  you  ? 

POET. 

Begone,  and  seek  elsewhere  some  other  man, 

Lackey  in  soul,  to  work  on  such  a  plan ! 

What !  shall  the  poet  fool,  at  thy  behest, 

The  right  away  ?     'Twere  sin  if  he  forsook 

His  human-heartedness,  the  noblest,  best, 

Endowment,  which  from  Nature's  hands  he  took. 

By  what  stirs  he  all  hearts  as  by  a  spell, 

And  makes  them  quail,  or  at  his  will  be  strong  ? 

By  what  does  he  each  element  compel 

To  lend  some  fresh  enchantment  to  his  song  ? 

Oh,  is  it  not  the  harmony  that  rings 

From  his  full  soul  with  unconstrained  art, 

And,  circling  round  creation's  orbit,  brings 

The  whole  world  back  in  music  to  his  heart  ? 

When  Nature  winds  her  endless  threads  along 

The  spindles,  heedless  how  they  cross  or  tangle, 

When  all  created  things,  a  jarring  throng, 

In  chaos  intermingling,  clash  and  jangle, 

Who  parts  them,  till  each  living  fibre  takes 

Its  ordered  place,  and  moves  in  rhythmic  time, 

Who  in  the  general  consecration  makes 

Each  unit  swell  the  symphony  sublime  ? 

Who  links  our  passions  with  the  tempest's  glooms, 

Our  solemn  thoughts  with  twilight's  roseate  red, 

Who  scatters  all  the  springtide's  loveliest  blooms 

Along  the  path  the  loved  one  deigns  to  tread  ? 

Who  of  some  chance  green  leaves  doth  chaplets  twine 


io  FAUST 

Of  glory  for  desert  in  every  field, 

Assures  Olympus,  gives  the  stamp  divine  ? 

Man's  power  immortal  in  the  bard  revealed  ! 

MERRYMAN. 

To  work,  then,  with  these  powers  so  rare, 

And  ply  your  task  of  bard  and  singer, 

As  people  push  a  love-affair ! 

They  meet  by  accident,  are  smitten,  linger, 

And  get  themselves  somehow  into  a  tangle  ; 

All's  love  and  bliss,  —  then  comes  a  tiff,  a  wrangle, 

In  heaven  one  hour,  the  next,  despair,  distraction, 

And,  presto,  lo  !  a  whole  romance  in  action ! 

After  this  fashion  let  us,  too, 

Construct  our  piece.     But  see  that  you 

Go  straight  at  all  the  stir  and  strife 

That  agitate  our  human  life ; 

All  have  it,  but  not  many  know  it. 

Get  hold  of  it  where'er  you  will, 

In  all  its  motley  mixture  show  it, 

And  it  is  interesting  still. 

A  medley  give  of  personages,  wheeling 

'Neath  impulses  half  seen,  half  hid  from  view, 

With  much  that's  false  to  nature  and  to  feeling 

Mix  here  and  there  a  spice  of  something  true  : 

So  you  a  famous  beverage  compound, 

To  rouse  and  edify  the  house  all  round. 

Then  to  your  play  throngs  youth's  prime  flower,  intent 

To  see  its  future  there  made  clear  and  plain, 

Then  tender  souls  from  it  seek  nourishment, 

To  feed  withal  their  melancholy  vein. 

Call  up  now  this,  now  that,  love,  hate,  mirth,  rage,  de- 
spair, 

And  all  will  then  behold  what  in  their  heart  they 
bear. 

They  still  are  of  that  happy  age,  when  they 

Are  equally  prepared  to  laugh  or  weep ; 


FAUST  i i 

They  still  can  find  a  pleasure  in  display, 
Still  reverence  bold  imagination's  sweep. 
He  that  is  past  his  growth,  hard,  formal,  set, 
There's  no  contentiug  him,  howe'er  you  sing : 
The  young,  with  all  their  growth  before  them  yet, 
Will  thank  you  heartily  for  all  you  bring. 

POET. 

Then  give,  give  me  back  too  the  days 
When  I  myself,  like  them,  was  growing, 
When  forth  gushed  thronging  lays  on  lays, 
As  from  a  fountain  ever  flowing  ; 
When  to  my  wondering  eyes  the  world, 
As  in  a  veil  of  mist,  was  set, 
And  every  bud  gave  promise  yet 
Of  marvels  in  its  leaves  upcurled ; 
When  swiftly  sped  the  happy  hours, 
As,  roaming  like  a  summer  gale, 
I  plucked  at  will  the  thousand  flowers 
That  blossomed  thick  through  every  vale. 
Nought  had  I  then,  yet  had  in  sooth 
Such  wealth  as  nothing  could  enhauce, 
The  thirst  unquenchable  for  truth, 
The  blest  delusions  of  romance. 
Give  each  bold  impulse  back  to  me, 
The  deep  wild  joy  that  thrilled  like  pain, 
The  might  of  hate,  love's  ecstasy, 
Give  me  my  youth  again  ! 

MERRYMAN. 

Of  youth,  good  friend,  you  would  have  need,  no  doubt, 

If  foes  on  battle-plain  were  round  you  pressing, 

If  some  fond  wench  had  flung  her  arms  about 

Your  neck,  and  plied  you  hard  with  her  caressing ; 

If  from  a  far-off  goal,  nigh  out  of  sight, 

The  wreath,  for  him  that  wins  the  prize,  were  blinking, 


12  FAUST 

If,  after  dancing  madly  half  the  night, 

You  settled  down  to  spend  the  rest  in  drinking ; 

But  on  the  lyre's  familiar  strings  to  lay 

Your  grasp  with  masterful,  yet  sweet  control, 

And,  there  meandering  gracefully,  to  stray 

On  to  your  shining  self-appointed  goal,  — 

This  the  vocation  is  of  you  old  fellows, 

Nor  do  we  therefore  prize  you  less,  my  friend. 

Age  does  not  make  men  childish,  as  folks  tell  us, 

It  only  finds  them  children  to  the  end. 

MANAGER. 

Enough  of  talk  !     At  all  events, 
I  fain  would  see  you  up  and  doing  : 
While  you  are  turning  compliments, 
Something  to  purpose  might  be  brewing. 
Why  speak  of  waiting  for  the  mood  ? 
Wait,  and  'twill  never  come  at  all ! 
You  set  up  for  a  poet,  —  good  ! 
Then  hold  your  poetry  at  call. 
You  know  the  article  we  want,  — 
A  drink  strong,  sharp,  and  stimulant,  — 
So  get  to  work,  and  brew  away ! 
Full  well  we  wot,  and  to  our  sorrow, 
That  what's  not  set  about  to-day 
Is  never  finished  on  the  morrow. 
No  man  of  sense  will  waste  in  such 
Delays  one  day,  one  single  hour ; 
No,  he  will  by  the  forelock  clutch 
Whatever  lies  within  his  power ; 
Stick  fast  to  it,  and  neither  shirk, 
Nor  from  his  enterprise  be  thrust, 
But,  having  once  begun  to  work, 
Go  working  on,  because  he  must. 
On  German  stages  one  expects, 
You  know,  vagaries  wild  and  daring, 
So  of  mechanical  effects, 


FAUST  13 


And  gorgeous  scenery  be  not  sparing ! 

Turn  on  heaven's  greater  light  and  less, 

Be  lavish  of  the  stars  withal, 

Tire,  forest,  sea,  crag,  waterfall, 

Birds,  beasts  into  your  service  press. 

So  in  this  narrow  booth  sweep  round 

Creation  to  its  farthest  bound, 

And,  with  such  speed  as  best  will  tell, 

From  heaven  post  through  the  world  to  hell 


Prologue  in   Heaven 


Prologue  in   Heaven 

The  Lord.     The  Heavenly  Hosts.     Afterward 
Mephistopheles. 

The  Three  Archangels  come  forward. 

RAPHAEL. 

The  sun  in  chorus,  as  of  old, 

With  brother  spheres  is  sounding  still, 
And,  on  its  thunderous  orbit  rolled, 

Doth  its  appointed  course  fulfil. 
The  angels,  as  they  gaze,  grow  strong, 

Though  fathom  it  they  never  may  ; 
These  works  sublime,  untouched  by  wrong, 

Are  bright  as  on  the  primal  day. 

GABRIEL. 

And  swift,  beyond  conceiving  swift, 

The  earth  is  wheeling  onward  ;  mark  ! 
From  dark  to  light  its  surface  shift, 

From  brightest  light  to  deepest  dark ! 
In  foam  the  sea's  broad  billows  leap, 

And  lash  the  rocks  with  giant  force, 
And  rock  and  billow  onward  sweep 

With  sun  and  stars  in  endless  course. 

MICHAEL. 

And  battling  storms  are  raging  high 
From  shore  to  sea,  from  sea  to  shore, 

17 


i 8  FAUST 

And  radiate  currents,  as  they  fly, 

That  quicken  earth  through  every  pore. 

There  blasting  lightnings  scatter  fear, 
And  thunders  peal ;  but  here  they  lay 

Their  terrors  down,  and,  Lord,  revere 
The  gentle  going  of  Thy  day. 

THE    THKEE. 

The  angels,  as  they  gaze,  grow  strong, 
Yet  fathom  Thee  they  never  may ; 

And  all  Thy  works,  untouched  by  wrong, 
Are  bright  as  on  the  primal  day. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Since  Thou,  O  Lord,  amongst  us  com'st  once  more, 

To  ask  how  things  are  getting  forward  here, 

And  Thou  hast  commonly  been  kind  before, 

I  at  thy  levee  with  the  rest  appear. 

I  can't  talk  grandly,  not  though  these  fine  folks 

Should  all  upon  my  homeliness  cry  scorn ; 

My  pathos  surely  would  Thy  mirth  provoke, 

If  Thou  hadst  not  all  merriment  forsworn. 

Of  sun  and  worlds  I  nothing  have  to  say ; 

I  only  see  how  mortals  fume  and  fret. 

The  world's  small  god  retains  his  old  stamp  yet, 

And  is  as  queer  as  on  the  primal  day. 

He  had  been  better  off,  hadst  Thou  not  some 

Faint  gleam  of  heavenly  light  into  him  put ; 

Reason  he  calls  it,  and  doth  yet  become 

More  brutish  through  it  than  the  veriest  brute. 

He  seems  to  me,  if  I  my  thought  may  state, 

One  of  those  grasshoppers,  with  legs  ell-long, 

That  flies  and  leaps,  and  flies  again,  and  straight 

Down  in  the  grass  is  piping  its  old  song ! 

If  to  the  grass  he  kept,  his  grief  were  less, 

But  he  will  thrust  his  nose  in  every  dirty  mess ! 


FAUST  19 


THE    LORD. 


Hast  thou,  then,  nothing  else  to  say  but  this  ? 

Comest  thou  ever,  only  to  complain  ? 

Art  thou  with  nothing  upon  earth  content  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No,  Lord  !     I  find  things  there,  as  ever,  much  amiss. 
Men  and  their  troubles  cause  me  genuine  pain ; 
Not  even  I  would  the  poor  souls  torment. 

THE    LORD. 

Dost  thou  know  Faust  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What !     Doctor  Faust  ? 

THE    LORD. 

My  servant. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thy  servant  ?     Well,  his  service  may  be  fervent, 

But  it  is  surely  of  the  strangest  kind. 

Not  upon  earth,  the  fool !  is  he 

Content  his  food  or  drink  to  find ; 

Craving  for  what  can  never  be, 

Yet  scarce  to  his  own  madness  blind, 

He  would  be  soaring  far  and  free, 

In  hopes  to  clutch  Immensity. 

From  heaven  he  asks  its  fairest  star, 

From  earth  its  every  chief  delight, 

Yet  all  that's  near,  and  all  that's  far, 

Although  they  lay  within  his  might, 

Would  never  yield  the  looked-for  zest, 

Nor  still  the  torturing  tumult  of  his  breast. 


2o  FAUST 


THE   LORD. 

Though  now  he  serve  me  stumblingly,  the  hour 
Is  nigh  when  I  shall  lead  him  into  light. 
When  the  tree  buds,  the  gardener  knows  that  flower 
And  fruit  will  make  the  coming  seasons  bright. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  will  you  wager  ?     If  you  only  let 

Me  lead  him  without  hindrance  my  own  way, 

I'll  answer  for  it,  you  shall  lose  him  yet ! 

THE    LORD. 

So  long  as  on  the  earth  he  lives,  you  may 
Your  snares  for  him  and  fascinations  set : 
Man,  while  his  struggle  lasts,  is  prone  to  stray. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

For  this  you  have  my  thanks ;  for  I  protest 
That  with  dead  men  I  never  cared  to  deal ; 
Plump,  rosy  cheeks  are  what  I  like  the  best. 
When  corpses  call,  I'm  out ;  for,  sooth,  I  feel, 
Like  cats  with  mice,  'tis  life  that  gives  the  zest. 

THE    LORD. 

Enough,  'tis  granted  !     From  the  source  where  he 

His  being  had,  this  spirit  turn  aside, 

And  lead  him,  if  thou'rt  able,  down  with  thee, 

Along  thy  way,  that  pleasant  is  and  wide ; 

And  stand  abashed,  when  thou  art  forced  to  own, 

A  good  man,  in  the  darkness  and  dismay 

Of  powers  that  fail,  and  purposes  o'erthrown, 

May  still  be  conscious  of  the  proper  way. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Good  !     But  at  rest  the  point  will  soon  be  set ; 
I'm  not  at  all  alarmed  about  my  bet. 


FAUST  21 

If  I  should  win,  and  crow  too  loudly,  you 
Will  not  amiss  my  little  triumph  take  ? 
Dust  shall  he  eat,  ay,  and  with  relish,  too, 
Like  that  old  cousin  of  mine,  the  famous  snake. 

THE    LORD. 

As  to  this,  also,  thou  art  wholly  free  ; 

Hate  have  I  never  felt  for  such  as  thee  ! 

Among  the  spirits  that  deny, 

The  scoffer  doth  offend  me  least  of  all. 

Who  may  on  man's  activity  rely  ? 

Into  indulgent  ease  'tis  apt  to  fall. 

Whatever  his  beginnings,  soon  he  grows 

To  yearn  for  unconditional  repose  ; 

And  therefore  am  I  always  glad  to  yoke 

In  fellowship  with  him  a  comrade  who 

Is  ever  ready  to  incite,  provoke, 

And  must,  as  devil,  be  stirring,  such  as  you. 

But,  ye  true  sons  of  heaven,  rejoice  to  share 
The  wealth  exuberant  of  all  that's  fair, 
Which  lives,  and  has  its  being  everywhere ! 
And  the  creative  essence  which  surrounds, 
And  lives  all-wheres,  and  worketh  evermore, 
Encompass  you  within  love's  gracious  bounds ; 
And  all  the  world  of  things  which  flit  before 
The  gaze,  in  seeming  fitful  and  obscure, 
Do  ye  in  lasting  thoughts  embody  and  secure ! 

[Heaven  closes ;  the  Archangels  disperse. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (alone). 

The  Old  One  now  and  then  I  like  to  see, 
And  not  to  break  with  him  take  special  heed. 
'Tis  very  good  of  such  a  great  grandee 
To  be  so  civil  to  me,  'tis  indeed. 


Faust 

A  Tragedy 


Faust :    A   Tragedy 

ACT   I. 

Scene   I.  —  Night. 

■A  l°fty >  vaulted,  narrow,  Gothic  chamber  —  Faust 
seated  at  his  desk. 

FAUST. 

All  that  philosophy  can  teach, 

The  craft  of  lawyer  and  of  leech, 

I've  mastered,  ah !  and  sweated  through 

Theology's  dreary  deserts,  too  ; 

Yet  here,  poor  fool !  for  all  my  lore, 

I  stand  no  wiser  than  before. 

They  call  me  magister,  save  the  mark  ! 

Doctor,  withal !  and  these  ten  years  I 

Have  been  leading  my  pupils  a  dance  in  the  dark, 

Up  hill,  down  dale,  through  wet  and  through  dry  — 

And  yet,  that  nothing  can  ever  be 

By  mortals  known,  too  well  I  see  ! 

This  is  burning  the  heart  clean  out  of  me. 

More  brains  have  I  than  all  the  tribe 

Of  doctor,  magister,  parson,  and  scribe. 

From  doubts  and  scruples  my  soul  is  free  ; 

Nor  hell  nor  devil  has  terrors  for  me : 

But  just  for  this  I  am  dispossessed 

Of  all  that  gives  pleasure  to  life  and  zest. 

I  can't  even  juggle  myself  to  own 

2S 


26  FAUST 

There  is  any  one  thing  to  be  truly  known, 

Or  aught  to  be  taught  in  science  or  arts, 

To  better  mankind  and  to  turn  their  hearts. 

Besides,  I  have  neither  land  nor  pence, 

Nor  worldly  honour  nor  influence. 

A  dog  in  my  case  would  scorn  to  live ! 

So  myself  to  magic  I've  vowed  to  give, 

And  see,  if  through  spirit's  might  and  tongue 

The  heart  from  some  mysteries  cannot  be  wrung  ; 

If  I  cannot  escape  from  the  bitter  woe 

Of  babbling  of  things  that  I  do  not  know, 

And  get  to  the  root  of  those  secret  powers 

Which  hold  together  this  world  of  ours, 

The  sources  and  centres  of  force  explore, 

And  chaffer  and  dabble  in  words  no  more. 

Oh,  broad  bright  moon,  if  this  might  be 

The  last  of  the  nights  of  agony, 

The  countless  midnights,  these  weary  eyes 

Have  from  this  desk  here  watched  thee  rise  ! 

Then,  sad-eyed  friend,  thy  wistful  looks 

Shone  in  upon  me  o'er  paper  and  books  ; 

But  oh  !  might  I  wander,  in  thy  dear  light, 

O'er  the  trackless  slopes  of  some  mountain  height, 

Round  mountain  caverns  with  spirits  sail, 

Or  float  o'er  the  meads  in  thy  hazes  pale ; 

And,  freed  from  the  fumes  of  a  fruitless  lore, 

Bathe  in  thy  dews,  and  be  whole  once  more ! 

Ah  me !  am  I  penned  in  this  dungeon  still  ? 
Accursed  doghole,  clammy  and  chill ! 
Where  heaven's  own  blessed  light  must  pass, 
Shorn  of  its  rays,  through  the  painted  glass, 
Narrowed  and  cumbered  by  piles  of  books, 
That  are  gnawed  by  worms  and  grimed  with  dust, 
And  which,  with  its  smoke-stained  paper,  looks 
Swathed  to  the  roof  in  a  dingy  rust ; 


FAUST  27 

Stuck  round  with  phials,  and  chests  untold, 
With  instruments  littered,  and  lumbered  with  old, 
Crazy,  ancestral  household  ware  — 
This  is  your  world  !     A  world  most  rare  ! 

And  yet  can  you  wonder  why  your  soul 

Is  numbed  within  your  breast,  and  why 

A  dead,  dull  anguish  makes  your  whole 

Life's  pulses  falter,  and  ebb,  and  die  ? 

How  should  it  be  but  so  ?     Instead 

Of  the  living  nature,  whereinto 

God  has  created  man,  things  dead 

And  drear  alone  encompass  you  — 

Smoke,  litter,  dust,  the  skeletons 

Of  birds  and  beasts,  and  dead  men's  bones ! 

Up,  up  !     Away  to  the  champaign  free  ! 

And  this  mysterious  volume,  writ 

By  Nostradamus'  self,  is  it 

Not  guide  and  counsel  enough  for  thee  ? 

Then  wilt  thou  learn  by  what  control 

The  stars  within  their  orbits  roll, 

And  if  thou  wilt  let  boon  Nature  be 

The  guide  and  monitress  to  thee, 

Thy  soul  shall  expand  with  tenfold  force, 

As  spirit  with  spirit  holds  discourse. 

Dull  poring,  think  not,  that  can  here 

Expound  these  holy  signs  to  thee ! 

Ye  spirits,  ye  are  hovering  near, 

If  ye  can  hear  me,  answer  me  ! 

\_T1irovjs  open  the  book,  and  discovers  the  sign  of 
the  Macrocosm. 
Ha !  as  it  meets  my  gaze,  what  rapture,  gushing 
Through  all  my  senses,  mounts  into  my  brain  ! 
Youth's  ecstasy  divine,  I  feel  it  rushing, 
Like  quickening  fire,  through  every  nerve  and  vein ! 
Was  it  a  god  who  chronicled  these  signs, 


28  FAUST 

Which  all  the  war  within  me  still, 

The  aching  heart  with  sweetness  fill, 

And  to  mine  eyes,  in  clearest  lines, 

Unveil  all  Nature's  powers  as  with  a  mystic  thrill  ? 

Am  I  a  god  ?     All  grows  so  bright. 

In  these  pure  outlines  I  behold 

Nature  at  work  before  my  soul  unrolled. 

Now  can  I  read  the  sage's  saw  aright : 

"  Not  barred  to  man  the  world  of  spirits  is ; 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead ! 

Up,  student,  lave,  —  nor  dread  the  bliss,  — 

Thy  earthly  breast  in  the  morning-red  ! " 

[Gazes  intently  at  the  sign. 
Into  one  whole  how  all  things  blend, 
One  in  the  other  working,  living ! 
What  powers  celestial,  lo  !  ascend,  descend, 
Each  unto  each  the  golden  pitchers  giving  ! 
And,  wafting  blessings  from  their  wings, 
From  heaven  through  farthest  earth  career, 
While  through  the  universal  sphere 
One  universal  concord  rings  ! 

Oh,  what  a  show  !  yet  but  a  show  !     Ah  me  ! 
Where,  boundless  Nature,  shall  I  clutch  at  thee  ? 
Ye  breasts,  where  are  ye  ?     Ye  perennial  springs 
Of  life,  whereon  hang  heaven  and  earth, 
Whereto  the  blighted  bosom  clings, 
Ye  gush,  ye  slake  all  thirst,  yet  I  pine  on  in  dearth ! 
[Turns  the  leaves  of  the  book  angrily,  and  sees  the 
sign  of  the  Earth  Spirit. 
How  differently  I  feel  before  this  sign  ! 
Earth  Spirit,  thou  to  me  art  nearer ; 
My  faculties  grow  loftier,  clearer, 
Even  now  I  glow  as  with  new  wine. 
Courage  I  feel,  into  the  world  to  roam, 
To  bid  earth's  joys  and  sorrows  hail, 
'Mid  storm  and  struggle  to  make  my  home, 


FAUST  29 

And  in  the  crash  of  shipwreck  not  to  quail. 

Clouds  gather  o'er  my  head ; 

The  moon  conceals  her  light, 

The  lamp's  gone  out.     The  air 

Grows  thick  and  close  !     Eed  flashes  play 

Around  me.     From  the  vaulted  roof 

A  shuddering  horror  creeps 

And  on  me  lays  its  gripe ! 

Spirit  by  me  invoked,  I  feel 

Thou'rt  hovering  near,  —  thou  art,  thou  art ! 

Unveil  thyself ! 

Ha  !     What  a  tugging  at  my  heart ! 

Stirred  through  their  depths,  my  senses  reel 

With  passions  new  and  strange  !     I  feel 

My  heart  is  thine,  thine  wholly  !     Hear  ! 

Thou   must !  ay,   though  it  cost  my  life,  thou   must 

appear ! 

[Seizes  the  book,  and  utters  the  sign  of  the  Spirit 
mysteriously.  A  red  light  flashes,  in  which 
the  Spirit  appears. 

SPIRIT. 

Who  calls  on  me  ? 

FAUST  (turning  away). 
Dread  vision  gaunt ! 

SPIRIT. 

By  potent  art  thou'st  dragged  me  here ; 
Thou'st  long  been  sucking  at  my  sphere, 
And  now  — 

FAUST. 

I  loathe  thee.     Hence,  avaunt ! 


30  FAUST 

SPIRIT. 

To  view  me  were  thy  prayer  and  choice, 

To  see  my  face,  to  hear  my  voice. 

Well !  by  thy  potent  prayer  won  o'er, 

I  come.     And  thou,  that  wouldst  be  more 

Than  mortal,  having  thy  behest, 

Art  with  a  craven  fear  possessed ! 

Where  is  thy  pride  of  soul  ?     Where  now  the  breast 

Which  in  itself  a  universe  created, 

Sustained  and  fostered,  —  which  dilated 

With  giant  throes  of  rapture,  in  the  hope 

As  peer  with  spirits  such  as  me  to  cope  ? 

Where  art  thou,  Faust,  whose  summons  rang  so  wide, 

Who  stormed  my  haunts,  and  would  not  be  denied  ? 

Is  this  thing  thou  ?     This,  my  mere  breath  doth  make 

Through  every  nerve  and  fibre  quake  ? 

A  crawling,  cowering,  timorous  worm  ? 

FAUST. 

Thou  film  of  flame,  art  thou  a  thing  to  fear  ? 
I  am,  I  am  that  Faust !     I  am  thy  peer ! 

SPIRIT. 

In  the  currents  of  Life,  in  Action's  storm, 

I  wander  and  I  wave ; 

Everywhere  I  be ! 

Birth  and  the  grave, 

An  infinite  sea, 

A  web  ever  growing, 

A  life  ever  glowing  ; 

Thus  at  Time's  whizzing  loom  I  spin, 

And  weave  the  living  vesture  that  God  is  mantled  in ! 

FAUST. 

Thou  busy  Spirit,  who  dost  sweep 

From  sphere  to  sphere,  from  deep  to  deep, 


FAUST  31 


Banging  the  world  from  end  to  end, 
How  near  akin  I  feel  to  thee ! 

SPIRIT. 

Thou'rt  like  the  Spirit,  thou  dost  comprehend, 

But  not  like  me  '  [  Vanishes. 

FAUST. 

But  not  like  thee ! 

Whom,  then  ?     What !  I, 

The  image  of  the  Deity  ! 

Yet  not  to  be  compared  to  thee  ?  [A  knock. 

0  death  !     My  Famulus  !     At  time  like  this 
To  drag  me  from  the  top  of  bliss ! 

That  such  a  soulless  driveller  should 
Disturb  this  vision's  full  beatitude  ! 

Enter  Wagner,  in  his  dressing-gown  and  nightcap,  with 
a  lamp  in  his  hand.     Faust  turns  away  impatiently. 

WAGNER. 

1  heard  you,  did  I  not,  declaim  ? 

From  one,  no  doubt,  of  the  old  Greek  plays  ? 
So  in  the  art  to  take  a  hint  I  came ; 
For  it  is  much  in  favour  nowadays. 
Many  a  time  I've  heard  it  said,  at  least, 
An  actor  might  give  lessons  to  a  priest. 

FAUST. 

Yes,  if  the  priest  an  actor  be, 

As  now  and  then  will  happen,  certainly. 

WAGNER. 

Ah !  when  one's  in  his  study  pent,  like  me, 
And  sees  the  world  but  on  a  rare  occasion, 


32  FAUST 

And  then  far  off,  on  some  chance  holiday, 
And  through  a  telescope,  as  one  may  say, 
How  can  one  ever  hope  to  sway, 
Or  govern  it  by  eloquent  persuasion  ? 

FAUST. 

That  is  a  power,  which  is  not  to  be  taught. 

It  must  be  felt,  must  gush  forth  from  within, 

And,  rising  to  the  lips  in  words  unsought, 

The  hearts  of  all  to  deep  emotion  win. 

Sit  on  for  ever !     Till  you  ache, 

Your  patchwork  and  mosaics  make  ; 

With  scraps  at  others'  banquets  found 

A  ragout  of  your  own  compound, 

And,  blowing  at  your  ash-heap,  fan 

What  miserable  flame  you  can ! 

Children  and  apes  may  praise  your  art  — 

A  noble  triumph,  you  must  own  — 

But  you  will  never  make  heart  throb  with  heart, 

Unless  your  own  heart  first  has  struck  the  tone. 

WAGNER. 

Delivery  makes  the  orator's  success. 
In  that  I'm  far  behind,  I  must  confess. 

FAUST. 

Scorn  such  success !     Play  thou  an  honest  game  ! 

Be  no  mere  empty  tinkling  fool ! 

True  sense  and  reason  reach  their  aim 

With  little  help  from  art  or  rule. 

Be  earnest !     Then  what  need  to  seek 

The  words  that  best  your  meaning  speak  ? 

Oh,  your  orations,  garnished,  trimmed,  refined, 

Tickling  men's  fancies  where  they're  chiefly  weak, 

Are  unref resiling  as  the  drizzling  wind, 

That  through  the  autumn's  sere  leaves  whistles  bleak. 


FAUST  33 

WAGNER. 

Ah  me  !  art  is  so  long,  and  life  so  brief ! 

Oft  in  my  labours  critical,  a  load 

Seems  weighing  on  my  brain  and  heart,  like  lead. 

How  hard  it  is,  almost  beyond  belief, 

To  get  at  knowledge  in  its  fountainhead ! 

And  ere  a  man  is  half-way  on  the  road, 

He's  very  sure,  poor  devil,  to  be  dead. 

FAUST. 

Is  parchment,  then,  the  sacred  fount  can  give 
The  stream  that  shall  allay  thy  thirst  for  ever  ? 
Man  never  quaffed  a  draught  restorative, 
That  from  his  own  soul  welled  not  —  never,  never ! 

WAGNER. 

Excuse  me,  surely  'tis  a  joy  sublime, 
To  realise  the  spirit  of  a  time, 
To  see  how  sages  long  ago  have  thought, 
And    the   high    pass  to   which   things   nowadays  are 
brought. 

FAUST. 

High  pass  !     Oh,  yes  !     As  the  welkin  high  ! 
My  friend,  to  us  they  are,  these  times  gone  by, 
A  book  with  seven  seals,  and  what  you  call 
The  spirit  of  the  times,  I've  long  suspected, 
Is  but  the  spirit  of  the  men  —  that's  all  — 
In  which  the  times  they  prate  of  are  reflected. 
And  that's  a  sight,  God  wot,  so  poor,  so  mean, 
We  run  away  from  it,  as  soon  as  seen ; 
Mere  scraps  of  odds  and  ends,  old  crazy  lumber, 
In  dust-bins  only  fit  to  rot  and  slumber ; 
At  best  a  play  on  stilts,  all  strut  and  glare, 
Gewgaws  and  glitter,  fustian  and  pretence, 


34  FAUST 

With  maxims  strewn  of  sage  pragmatic  air, 

That,  mouthed  by  puppets,  pass  with  fools  for  sense. 

WAGNEK. 

Ay,  but  the  world  !     The  heart  and  soul  of  man, 
Something  of  these  may,  sure,  be  learned  by  all. 

FAUST. 

As  men  call  learning,  yes,  no  doubt,  it  can ! 

But  who  the  child  by  its  right  name  will  call  ? 

The  few,  who  something  of  that  knowledge  learned, 

And  were  not  wise  enough  a  guard  to  keep 

On  their  full  hearts,  but  to  the  people  showed 

The  reaches  of  their  soaring  thoughts,  the  deep 

Emotions  that  within  them  glowed, 

Men  at  all  times  have  crucified  and  burned.1 

I  prithee,  friend,  'tis  far  into  the  night, 

And  for  the  present  we  must  say  adieu ! 

WAGNER. 

I'd  gladly  watch  till  dawn,  for  the  delight 

Of  such  most  edifying  talk  with  you. 

To-morrow,  being  Easter-day, 

Good  sir,  if  I  so  far  might  task  you, 

Some  things  there  are,  which  I  should  like  to  say, 

Some  further  questions  I  should  like  to  ask  you ; 

My  zeal  has  in  my  studies  not  been  small ; 

Much,  it  is  true,  I  know,  but  I  would  fain  know  all. 

[Exit. 

FAUST. 

Strange,  that  all  hope  has  not  long  since  been  blighted 
In  one  content  on  such  mere  chaff  to  feed, 

1  Whenever  a  great  soul  gives  utterance  to  its  thoughts,  there 
also  is  Golgotha.  —  Heine. 


FAUST  35 

Who  digs  for  treasure  with  a  miser's  greed, 
And,  if  he  finds  a  muck-worrn,  is  delighted  ! 

Dare  such  a  thing  as  this  to  babble  now, 
When  all  around  with  spirit-life  is  teeming  ? 
Yet  ah,  I  thank  thee,  though  the  sorriest  thou 
Of  all  that  tread  the  earth  in  mortal  seemins. 
Thou  rescuedst  me  from  the  despair  that  fast 
Was  wildering  my  brain  with  mad  surmise. 
Ah,  yonder  vision  was  so  giant-vast, 
I  shrank  before  it  to  a  pigmy's  size. 

I,  God's  own  image,  I,  who  deemed  I  stood 

With  truth  eternal  full  within  my  gaze, 

And,  of  this  earthly  husk  divested,  viewed 

In  deep  contentment  heaven's  effulgent  blaze ; 

I,  more  than  cherub,  whose  free  powers,  methought, 

Did  all  the  veins  of  nature  permeate, 

I,  who  —  so  potently  my  fancy  wrought  — 

Conceived  that,  like  a  god,  I  could  create, 

And  in  creating  taste  a  bliss  supreme, 

How  must  I  expiate  my  frenzied  dream  ? 

One  word,  that  smote  like  thunder  on  my  brain, 

Swept  me  away  to  nothingness  again. 

I  dared  not  deem  myself  for  thee  a  peer ; 

Though  to  evoke  thee  I  the  power  possessed, 

Yet  was  I  impotent  to  keep  thee  here. 

Oh,  in  the  rapture  of  that  moment  blest 

I  felt  myself  so  little,  yet  so  great ' 

But  thou  didst  thrust  me  back,  with  cruel  scorn, 

Upon  the  sad  uncertainties  forlorn 

Of  man's  mere  mortal  state. 

Who  is  to  teach  me  ?     What  shall  I 

Recoil  from  ?     What  go  widely  by  ? 

Yon  impulse,  passionate,  profound, 

Shall  I  obey  it,  or  forswear  ? 


36  FAUST 

Alas  !  our  way  of  life  is  cramped  and  bound 
By  what  we  do,  no  less  than  what  we're  doomed  to 
bear! 

Around  our  spirit's  dreams,  our  noblest,  best, 
Some  base  alloy  for  ever  clings  and  grows ; 
Once  of  the  good  things  of  this  world  possessed, 
We  call  a  better  wealth  but  lying  shows. 
The  glorious  feelings,  those  that  most  we  prized, 
That  made  indeed  our  very  life  of  life, 
In  the  world's  turmoil  and  ignoble  strife 
Are  seared  and  paralysed. 

If  fancy,  for  a  season  flushed  with  hope, 

Through  boundless  ether  soars  with  wing  unchecked, 

A  little  space  for  her  is  ample  scope. 

When  in  Time's  quicksands  joy  on  joy  lies  wrecked, 

Anon  creeps  care  into  our  nether  heart, 

And  there  of  secret  sorrows  breeds  great  store ; 

Uneasily  she  sits,  and  mopes  apart, 

Marring  our  joy  and  peace ;  and  evermore 

Fresh  masks  she  dons,  to  work  us  bitter  dole. 

Turn  where  we  will,  she  haunts  our  life, 

As  house  and  land,  as  child  and  wife, 

As  fire  and  flood,  as  knife  and  poisoned  bowl. 

I  am  not  like  the  gods,  too  well  I  feel ! 
No !     Like  the  worm,  that  writhes  in  dust,  am  I, 
Which,  as  it  feeds  on  dust,  the  passer-by 
Stamps  into  nothingness  beneath  his  heel. 

For  what  but  dust,  mere  dust,  is  all, 
Which,  piled  in  endless  shelf  and  press, 
From  floor  to  roof,  contracts  this  lofty  wall  ? 
The  trash,  all  frippery  and  emptiness, 
Which  here,  in  this  moth-swarming  hole. 
Cramps,  cabins,  and  confines  my  soul  ? 


FAUST  37 

How  shall  I  e'er  discover  here 

The  light  and  lore  for  which  I  yearn  ? 

Is  all  my  poring,  year  by  year. 

On  books  by  thousands,  but  to  learn 

That  mortals  have  been  wretched  everywhere, 

And  only  one  been  happy  here  and  there  ? 

What,  hollow  skull,  what  means  that  grin  of  thine, 

But  that  thy  brain  was  once,  like  mine,  distraught, 

Did  after  truth  with  rapturous  passion  pine, 

And,  while  the  radiance  of  the  day  it  sought, 

Grew  at  each  step  less  certain  of  its  way, 

And  in  the  twilight  went  disastrously  astray  ? 

Ye  instruments,  at  me  ye  surely  mock, 

With  cog  and  wheel,  and  coil  and  cylinder ! 

I  at  the  door  of  knowledge  stood,  ye  were 

The  key  which  should  that  door  for  me  unlock ; 

Your  wards,  I  ween,  have  many  a  cunning  maze, 

But  yet  the  bolts  ye  cannot,  cannot  raise. 

Inscrutable  in  noonday's  blaze, 

Nature  lets  no  one  tear  the  veil  away, 

And  what  herself  she  does  not  choose 

Unasked  before  your  soul  to  lay, 

You  shall  not  wrest  from  her  by  levers  or  by  screws. 

Old  lumber,  that  hast  ne'er  been  used  by  me, 

The  reason,  and  the  only,  thou  art  here, 

Is  that  my  father  worked  of  yore  with  thee  ! 

And  thou,  old  roll,  hast  rotted  here  and  mouldered, 

Smeared  with  the  fumes  of  smoke  year  after  year, 

Since  first  upon  this  desk  the  dull  lamp  smouldered. 

Oh,  better  far,  had  I  with  hand  profuse 

Squandered  the  little  I  can  call  my  own, 

Than  with  that  little  here  to  sweat  and  groan ! 

Would  you  possess,  enjoy  and  turn  to  use 

What  from  your  sires  you  have  inherited. 

What  a  man  owns,  but  knows  not  to  employ, 


38  FAUST 

A  burden  is,  that  weighs  on  hirn  like  lead  ; 
Nought  can  avail  hirn,  nought  can  he  enjoy, 
Save  what  is  by  the  passing  moment  bred. 

Why  is  my  gaze  on  yonder  corner  glued  ? 
Yon  flask,  is  it  a  magnet  to  my  sight  ? 
Why,  why  is  all  at  once  as  lovely,  bright, 
As  sudden  moonshine  in  a  midnight  wood  ? 

All  hail,  thou  priceless  phial,  which  I  here 

Take  from  thy  shelf  with  reverential  hand ! 

In  thee  man's  skill  and  wisdom  I  revere. 

Thou  quintessence  of  all  the  juices  bland, 

That  drowse  the  brain  with  slumber,  —  abstract  thou 

Of  all  most  subtle  deadly  agencies, 

Bestow  thy  grace  upon  thy  master  now  ! 

I  see  thee,  and  my  anguish  finds  a  balm, 

I  touch  thee,  and  the  turmoil  turns  to  calm  ; 

My  soul's  flood-tide  is  ebbing  by  degrees. 

A  viewless  finger  beckons  me  to  fleet 

To  shoreless  seas,  where  never  tempest  roars, 

The  glassy  flood  is  shining  at  my  feet, 

Another  day  invites  to  other  shores. 

A  car  of  fire,  by  airy  pinions  driven, 

Flits  o'er  me :  and  I  stand  prepared  to  flee, 

By  tracts  untrodden,  through  the  wastes  of  heaven, 

Up  to  new  spheres  of  pure  activity. 

This  life  sublime,  this  godlike  rapturous  thrill, 

Can  these  by  thee,  a  worm  but  now,  be  won  ? 

Yes,  so  thou  turn  with  a  resolved  will 

Thy  back  on  earth,  and  on  its  kindly  sun  ! 

The  gates,  most  men  would  slink  like  cravens  by, 

Dare  thou  to  burst  asunder !     Lo,  the  hour 

Is  here  at  hand  by  deeds  to  testify 

Man's  worth  can  front  the  gods  in  all  their  power ; 


FAUST  39 

To  gaze  unbleuching  on  that  murky  pit 
Where  fancy  weaves  herself  an  endless  doom, 
To  storm  that  pass  whose  narrow  gorge  is  lit 
By  hell-fires  flickering  through  the  ghastly  gloom ; 
Serene,  although  the  risk  before  thee  lay, 
Into  blank  nothingness  to  melt  away ! 


Then  come  thou  down,  pure  goblet  crystalline, 
Out  from  that  time-stained  covering  of  thine, 
Where  I  unmarked  for  years  have  let  thee  rest. 
Thou    sparkled'st    when    my    grandsire's    feasts    were 

crowned, 
Lit'st  up  the  smiles  of  many  a  sad-browed  guest, 
As  each  man  to  his  neighbour  passed  thee  round. 
Thy  figures,  marvels  of  the  artist's  craft, 
The  drinker's  task,  to  tell  their  tale  in  rhyme, 
And  drain  thy  huge  circumference  at  a  draught, 
Bring  many  a  night  back  of  my  youthful  prime. 
I  shall  not  pass  thee  now  to  comrade  boon, 
Nor  torture'  my  invention  to  explain 
The  quaint  devices  of  thy  graver's  brain. 
Here  is  a  juice  intoxicates  full  soon ; 
Its  current  brown  brims  up  thy  ample  bowl. 
Now  do  I  pledge  this  draught,  my  last  best  care, 
In  festive  greeting,  and  with  all  my  soul, 
To  the  day-dawn,  shall  hail  me  otherwhere ! 

[liaises  the  goblet  to  his  lips.     Pealing  of  bells,  and 
choral  song. 


CHORUS    OF    ANGELS. 

Christ  is  ascended ! 
Hail  the  glad  token, 
True  was  it  spoken, 
Sin's  fetters  are  broken, 
Man's  bondage  is  ended ! 


40  FAUST 

FAUST. 

What  deepening  hum  is  this,  what  silver  chime 
Drags  from  my  lips  perforce  the  cup  away  ? 
Ye  booming  bells,  do  you  proclaim  the  time 
Once  more  begun  of  Easter's  festal  day  ? 
And  you,  ye  pealing  choirs,  do  you  the  songs 
Of  consolation  and  glad  tidings  chant, 
Hymned  round  the  sepulchre  by  angel  throngs, 
Pledge  of  a  new  and  nobler  covenant  ? 

CHORUS    OF    WOMEN. 

With  myrrh  and  with  aloes 

We  balmed  and  we  bathed  Him, 

Loyally,  lovingly, 

Tenderly  swathed  Him ; 

With  cerecloth  and  band 

For  the  grave  we  arrayed  Him ; 

But  oh,  He  is  gone 

From  the  place  where  we  laid  Him ! 

CHORUS   OF   ANGELS. 

Christ  is  ascended ! 
The  love  that  possessed  Him, 
The  pangs  that  oppressed  Him, 
To  prove  and  to  test  Him, 
In  triumph  have  ended  ! 

FAUST. 

Ye  heavenly  strains,  potent  yet  soothing,  why 

Seek  ye  out  me,  a  crawler  in  the  dust  ? 

Ring  out  for  men  more  pliant-souled  than  I ! 

The  message  though  I  hear,  I  lack  the  faith  robust. 

Faith's  darling  child  is  miracle.     I  must, 

I  dare  not  strive  to  mount  to  yonder  spheres 

Whence  peal  these  tidings  of  great  joy  to  men ; 


FAUST  41 

Yet  does  the  strain,  familiar  to  mine  ears 

From  childhood,  call  me  back  even  now  to  life  again. 

Ah,  then  I  felt  the  kiss  of  heavenly  love 

On  me  in  Sabbath's  holy  calm  descending, 

The  bells  rang  mystic  meanings  from  above, 

A  prayer  was  ecstasy,  that  seemed  unending ; 

A  longing  sweet,  that  would  not  be  controlled, 

Drove  me  through  field  and  wood ;  and  from  my  eyes 

Whilst  tears,  whose  source  I  could  not  fathom,  rolled, 

I  felt  a  great  glad  world  for  me  arise. 

This  anthem  heralded  youth's  merriest  time, 

The  gambols  of  blithe  Spring :  now  memories  sweet, 

Fraught  with  the  feelings  of  my  childhood's  prime, 

From  the  last  step  decisive  stay  my  feet. 

Oh,  peal,  sweet  heavenly  anthems,  peal  as  then  ! 

Tears  flood  mine  eyes,  earth  has  her  child  again. 

CHORUS    OF   DISCIPLES. 

He  that  was  buried 
On  high  has  ascended  ; 
There  lives  in  glory, 
Sublimely  attended. 
In  heaven  whilst  He  reigneth, 
For  us  Who  was  slain  here, 
On  earth  we,  His  chosen, 
To  suffer  remain  here, — 
To  suffer  and  languish 
Midst  pain  and  annoy  ; 
Lord,  in  our  anguish, 
We  envy  Thy  joy. 

CHORUS    OF    ANGELS. 

From  the  lap  of  corruption, 
Lo  !  Christ  has  ascended  ! 
Eejoice,  for  the  fetters 
That  bound  you  are  rended ! 


42  FAUST 

Praise  Him  unceasingly, 
Love  one  another, 
Break  bread  together,  like 
Sister  and  brother  ! 
Preach  the  glad  tidings 
To  all  who  will  hear  you, 
So  will  the  Master  be 
Evermore  near  you ! 


Scene  II.  —  Before,  the  Town  Gate. 
Promenaders  of  all  kinds  pass  out. 

A    PARTY    OF    MECHANICS. 

But  why  are  you  turning  up  the  hill  ? 

ANOTHER    PARTY. 

We  for  the  Jagerhaus  are  bound. 

FIRST    PARTY. 

We  think  of  sauntering  toward  the  mill. 

A    MECHANIC. 

Best  by  the  Wasserhof  go  round. 

SECOND    MECHANIC. 

The  road  there  is  none  of  the  prettiest. 

THE    OTHERS. 

And  where  are  you  for  ? 

THIRD   MECHANIC. 

I  go  with  the  rest. 


FAUST  43 

FOUKTH    MECHANIC. 

Come  up  to  the  Burgdorf !     That's  the  place 
Where  one  is  sure  to  find  the  best  of  cheer, 
The  prettiest  wenches,  and  the  strongest  beer, 
And  a  good  jolly  row  in  any  case. 

FIFTH    MECHANIC. 

You  pestilent  scapegrace, 

A  third  time  do  you  want  to  be  well  whacked  ? 

I  don't  half  fancy  going  there ;  in  fact, 

I  have  a  perfect  horror  of  the  place. 

SERVANT    GIRL. 

I  will  go  back  to  town,  I  will,  that's  flat ! 

SECOND    SERVANT   GIRL. 

We're  sure  to  find  him  at  the  poplars  yonder. 

FIRST   SERVANT    GIRL. 

And  much  the  better  I  shall  be  for  that ! 

By  whose  side  will  he  walk,  I  wonder  ? 

Why,  yours  !     And  dance  with  you,  and  you  alone  ; 

So,  while  you  have  your  frolic,  I  may  moan. 

SECOND    SERVANT    GIRL. 

He's  sure  to  have  a  friend  !     Ah,  come  now,  do ! 
He  said  that  Curlylocks  was  coming,  too. 

STUDENT. 

Zounds,  how  these  strapping  girls  step  out ! 
Come,  brother,  come,  let's  join  them  for  a  bout. 
A  beer  that  stuns,  a  pipe  that  bites, 
And  a  wench  in  her  braws,  are  my  delights. 


44  FAUST 

CITIZEN'S   DAUGHTER. 

These  fine  young  fellows,  look  where  they  go  ! 
Tis  a  downright  shame,  when  they  might  know 
The  best  of  company,  if  they  please, 
To  be  running  after  such  drabs  as  these ! 


SECOND    STUDENT    (to  the  first). 

Not  quite  so  fast !     Behind  us,  yonder,  see, 

A  brace  of  wenches  rigged  out  smart  and  neat ! 

One  lives  almost  next  door  to  me, 

And  on  the  girl  I'm  very  sweet. 

For  all  their  looking  so  demure, 

They'll  take  us  with  them  presently,  I'm  sure. 

FIRST    STUDENT. 

No,  no  !  all  prudes  are  bores.     Quick,  come  away, 
Or  we  shall  let  the  game  slip !     'Tis  confessed, 
The  hand  that  twirls  the  mop  on  Saturday 
Fondles  on  Sunday  with  peculiar  zest. 

CITIZEN. 

What,  our  new  burgomaster  ?     Nay, 
He  is  a  man  I  cannot  bear. 
He  grows  more  overbearing  every  day, 
Since  he  was  called  into  the  chair. 
And  what,  pray,  does  he  for  the  town  ? 
Are  things  not  daily  growing  worse  ? 
Are  we  not  more  and  more  kept  down, 
And  pulled  at  more  and  more  in  purse  ? 

beggar  (sings). 

Kind  sirs,  and  ladies  fair  and  sweet, 

With  rosy  cheeks  and  handsome  dresses, 


FAUST  45 

Look  down  upon  me,  I  entreat, 

Observe,  and  lighten  my  distresses. 

In  pity  listen  to  my  voice ! 

Free  hands  make  merry  hearts  and  gay ; 

So  make  this  day,  when  all  rejoice, 
To  me  a  very  harvest-day. 

SECOND    CITIZEN. 

There's  nothing  more  my  heart  on  Sundays  cheers, 

Or  holidays,  than  a  gossip  about  war 

And  warlike  rumours,  when  the  peoples  far 

Away  in  Turkey  all  are  by  the  ears. 

We  by  the  window  stand,  toss  off  our  glass, 

And  down  the  river  watch  the  painted  vessels  gliding ; 

Then  home  at  evening  merrily  we  pass, 

And  bless  the  comforts  of  a  peace  abiding. 

THIRD    CITIZEN. 

Ay,  neighbour,  nor  care  I  what  lengths  they  go. 
Zounds,  they  may  cleave  each  other's  pates,  they  may, 
And  turn  the  whole  world  topsy-turvy,  so 
They  leave  things  here  at  home  to  jog  on  the  old  way. 

OLD  WOMAN  (to  the  Citizens  Daughters). 

Heyday !  How  smart !    The  pretty  dears  !    Who'd  not 
Be  fairly  smitten,  now,  that  met  you  ? 
You  needn't  be  so  haughty,  though,  God  wot ! 
What  you  desire  I  know  the  way  to  get  you. 

citizen's  daughter. 

Come,  Agatha !     I'd  rather  not  be  seen  to  greet 
A  witch  like  this  upon  the  public  street ; 
But  on  Saint  Andrew's  Eve  she  let  me  see 
In  flesh  and  blood  my  lover  that's  to  be. 


46  FAUST 

THE    OTHER. 

Mine,  too,  she  showed  me  in  the  glass, 
A  soldier,  one  of  a  dare-devil  set ; 
Here,  there,  all  wheres  I  seek  him,  but,  alas! 
I  have  not  come  across  him  yet. 

soldiers  (sing*). 

Towns,  with  loud  defiance  sent 
Down  from  tower  and  battlement ; 
Maidens,  rosy  as  the  morn, 
Flashing  round  them  looks  of  scorn, 
These  alike  for  us  have  charms, 
Sound  alike  the  cry,  "  To  arms ! " 
When  such  glorious  prizes  call  us, 
Death  nor  danger  can  appal  us. 

When  we  hear  the  trumpets  blow, 
On  to  death  or  bliss  we  go ! 
What  is  like  the  soldier's  trade  ? 
What  can  match  such  escalade  ? 
Forted  towns  and  maidens  tender 
Must  alike  to  us  surrender. 
When  such  glorious  prizes  call  us, 
Death  nor  danger  can  appal  us. 

CHORUS. 

Maids  or  widows  may  be  sighing, 
On  we  march  with  colours  flying ! 

FAUST. 

Freed  from  the  ice  are  river  and  rill 

By  the  quickening  glance  of  the  gracious  Spring ; 

Green  with  promise  are  valley  and  hill. 

Old  winter,  palsied  and  shivering, 

Back  has  crept  to  his  mountains  bleak, 

And  sends  from  them,  as  he  flies  appalled, 


FAUST  47 

Showers  of  impotent  hail,  to  streak 

The  fields  that  are  green  as  emerald. 

But  the  sun  no  shimmer  of  whiteness  brooks ; 

The  earth  is  through  all  her  pores  alive, 

Budding  and  bursting,  and  all  things  strive 

To  enliven  with  colours  their  winterly  looks ; 

And  the  landscape,  though  bare  of  flowers,  makes  cheer 

With  people  dressed  out  in  their  holiday  gear. 

Turn  round,  and  from  this  height  look  down 

Over  the  vineyards  upon  the  town  ! 

A  motley  medley  is  making  its  way 

Out  from  the  murky  wide-mouthed  gate. 

Blithely  they  bask  in  the  sun  to-day. 

The  Saviour's  rising  they  celebrate, 

For  they  have  risen  themselves,  I  ween ; 

From  the  close,  damp  rooms  of  their  hovels  mean, 

From  the  bonds  of  business,  and  labour,  and  care, 

From  the  gables  and  roofs  that  oppress  them  there, 

From  the  stifling  closeness  of  street  and  lane, 

From  the  churches'  gloom-inspiring  night, 

They  all  have  emerged  into  the  light. 

But,  see,  how  they  are  spreading  amain 

Across  the  gardens  and  fields,  and  how 

The  river,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  note, 

Is  all  alive  with  shallop  and  boat ! 

And  look  !  the  last  departing  now, 

Laden  so  deeply  it  scarce  can  float. 

Far  up  on  the  hills  as  the  pathways  run, 

Gay  dresses  are  glistering  in  the  sun. 

Hark  now  the  din  of  the  village  !     Here 

Is  the  people's  true  heaven.     With  hearty  glee, 

Little  and  great,  how  they  shout  and  cheer ! 

Here  I  am  man,  here  such  dare  be. 

WAGNER. 

To  walk  about  with  you,  sir  doctor,  so 

Is  honour,  yea,  and  profit.     Still,  were  I  alone, 


48  FAUST 

I  would  not  here  be  loitering  thus,  I  own, 

Seeing  of  all  that's  coarse  I  am  the  foe. 

Your  fiddling,  shouting,  skittle-playing,  all 

Are  noises  which  I  loathe  and  quite  resent. 

These  creatures  rave,  as  if  the  devil  drove,  and  call 

Their  riot  song,  forsooth,  and  merriment. 

PEASANTS    UNDER    THE    LINDEN    TREE. 

Dance  and  Song. 

The  shepherd  for  the  dance  was  dressed ; 
All  tricked  out  in  his  Sunday  best, 

With  ribbons  gay  and  sightly. 
Thronged  round  the  linden  lass  and  lad, 
And  all  were  dancing  there  like  mad, 
Huzza !  huzza ! 
Hip  !  hip  !  huzza  ! 
The  fiddle-bow  went  sprightly. 

Into  the  thick  of  them  he  paced, 
And  clipped  a  damsel  round  the  waist, 

His  arms  about  her  bending ; 
The  buxom  wench  turned  round  and  said, 
"  You  stupid  oaf,  where  were  you  bred  ? " 
Huzza !  huzza ! 
Hip!  hip!  huzza! 
"  Your  manners,  sir,  want  mending !  " 

But  faster  grew  the  fun,  and  right 
And  left  they  wheeled  ;  it  was  a  sight 

To  see  the  kirtles  flying ! 
And  they  grew  red,  and  they  grew  warm, 
And  then  they  rested,  arm  in  arm, 
Huzza !  huzza ! 
Hip !  hip !  huzza  ! 
Such  panting,  and  such  sighing! 


FAUST  49 

"  Hold  off  your  saucy  hands  !     You  men 
Are  all  deceit  and  falsehood  when 

You  find  a  girl  undoubting." 
But  he  coaxed  her,  and  she  stepped  aside, 
While  from  the  linden  echoed  wide, 
Huzza !  huzza ! 
Hip !  hip  !  huzza  ! 
The  fiddling  and  the  shouting. 

OLD    PEASANT. 

Sir  doctor,  this  is  kind  of  you, 
To  think  no  scorn  of  us  to-day ; 
And  you  such  a  grand  scholar  too, 
To  mix  with  simple  folks  this  way ! 
Here,  take  this  jug,  'tis  handsome  ware. 
Nor  is  the  liquor  of  the  worst, 
I  pledge  you  in  it,  with  the  prayer, 
It  may  not  only  quench  your  thirst, 
But  that  each  drop  within  it  may 
Add  to  your  life  another  day ! 

FAUST. 

Eight  gladly  I  obey  your  call, 

And  drink,  with  thanks,  good  health  to  all ! 

[TJie  people  gather  round  him  in  a  circle. 

OLD    PEASANT. 

Indeed  this  is  most  kindly  done, 
To  mingle  in  our  mirth  to-day. 
Ah,  sir,  you  stood  our  friend  in  times 
When  we  were  anything  but  gay. 
There's  many  a  hale  man  standing  here, 
Your  father  rescued  from  the  clutch 
Of  raging  fever,  when  he  stayed 
The  plague  that  wasted  us  so  much. 


50  FAUST 

Though  but  a  lad,  from  house  to  house 
You  sought  the  sick  and  dying  too : 
They  bore  out  many  stark  and  stiff, 
But  nothing  ever  ailed  with  you. 
Your  trials  many  were  and  sore, 
You  bore  them  with  a  spirit  brave, 
And  the  great  Saviour  of  us  all 
Saved  him  that  lent  a  hand  to  save. 

ALL. 

Health  to  the  trusty  friend,  and  may 
He  live  to  help  us  many  a  day  ! 

FAUST. 

To  Him  above  be  homage  paid, 
Who  only  counsel  can,  or  aid ! 

[  Walks  on  with  Wagner. 

wagner. 

What  must  you  feel,  to  think,  illustrious  man, 

This  crowd  reveres  you  with  a  love  so  deep  ? 

Oh,  happy,  who  from  his  endowments  can 

So  fair  a  harvest  of  advantage  reap ! 

The  father  points  you  to  his  son, 

The  people  whisper,  crowd,  and  run, 

The  fiddle  stops,  and  lad  and  lass 

Break  up  the  dance  midway  to  stare ; 

They  stand  in  rows  for  you  to  pass, 

Their  caps  fly  up  into  the  air  ; 

Upon  their  knees  they  dropped,  almost 

As  though  it  were  the  passing  of  the  Host. 

FAUST. 

Some  few  steps  farther,  up  to  yonder  stone ! 
Here  will  we  rest,  and  taste  the  evening  air : 


FAUST  51 

Ofttimes  I  sat  here,  wrapt  in  thought,  alone, 

And  racked  myself  with  fasting  and  with  prayer. 

Brimmed  full  with  hope,  in  faith  unwavering, 

By  tears  and  sighs  and  beatings  of  the  breast 

From  the  great  Lord  of  Heaven  I  sought  to  wring 

Cessation  of  that  devastating  pest. 

Like  mockery  now  rings  yonder  crowd's  applause. 

Oh,  could  you  look  into  my  soul,  and  read 

How  little  worthy  son  or  father  was 

Of  such  repute  as  they  to  us  decreed ! 

My  father  was  a  good  man,  not  too  bright, 

Who,  by  strange  notions  of  his  own  deluded, 

In  all  good  faith,  with  patience  infinite, 

On  Nature  and  her  sacred  circles  brooded ; 

Who  shut  himself  with  his  adepts  away 

In  a  laboratory,  black,  grim,  and  mystic, 

And  fused  and  fused,  by  rule  and  recipe, 

Things  that  by  nature  are  antagonistic. 

The  Lion  Ked,  bold  wooer,  bolder  mate, 

In  tepid  bath  was  to  the  Lily  married, 

And  both  were  then  by  open  fire-flame  straight 

From  one  bride-chamber  to  another  harried. 

Thus  in  due  time  the  Youthful  Queen,  inside 

The  glass  retort,  in  motley  colours  hovered : 

This  was  the  medicine  ;  the  patients  died, 

And  no  one  thought  of  asking  who  recovered. 

So  'mongst  these  hills  and  vales  our  hell-broths  wrought 

More  havoc,  brought  more  victims  to  the  grave, 

By  many,  than  the  pestilence  had  brought. 

To  thousands  I  myself  the  poison  gave : 

They  pined  and  perished ;  I  live  on,  to  hear 

Their  reckless  murderers'  praises  far  and  near. 


WAGNER. 

But  why  let  this  distress  you,  —  why  ? 
Can  any  honest  man  do  more 


52  FAUST 

Thau  conscientiously  to  ply 

His  craft  as  by  its  masters  plied  before  ? 

If  you,  as  youth,  revere  your  father,  you 

Of  course  accept  from  him  what  he  can  teach ; 

If  you,  as  man,  see  farther,  wider  too, 

Your  son  in  turn  a  higher  mark  may  reach. 


FAUST. 

0  happy  he  who  still  can  hope 

Out  of  this  sea  of  error  to  arise  ! 

"We  long  to  use  what  lies  beyond  our  scope, 

Yet  cannot  use  even  what  within  it  lies. 

But  let  us  not,  by  saddening  thoughts  like  these, 

The  blessing  of  this  happy  hour  o'errun. 

See,  how  they  gleam,  the  green-girt  cottages, 

Fired  by  the  radiance  of  the  evening  sun ! 

It  slopes,  it  sets.     Day  wanes.     On  with  a  bound 

It  speeds,  and  lo  !  a  new  world  is  alive ! 

0  God,  for  wings  to  lift  me  from  the  ground, 
Onward,  still  onward,  after  it  to  strive ! 
Beneath  me,  I  should  see,  as  on  I  pressed, 

The  hushed  world  ever  bathed  in  evening's  beams, 
Each  mountain-top  on  fire,  each  vale  at  rest, 
The  silver  brook  flow  into  golden  streams. 
Nor  peak  nor  mountain-chasm  should  then  defeat 
My  onward  course,  so  godlike  and  so  free. 
Lo,  with  its  bays  all  winking  in  the  heat, 
Bursts  on  my  wonder-smitten  eyes  the  sea ! 
But  now  the  god  appears  about  to  sink ! 
Fresh  impulse  stirs  me,  not  to  be  confined. 

1  hurry  on,  his  deathless  light  to  drink, 
The  day  before  me,  and  the  night  behind, 
The  heavens  above  me,  and  the  waves  below. 
A  lovely  dream  !     Meanwhile,  the  sun  his  face 
Has  hid.     Ah,  with  the  spirit's  wings  will  no 
Corporeal  wings  so  readily  keep  pace ! 


FAUST  t  53 

Yet  is  the  yearning  with  us  all  inborn, 
Upwards  and  onwards  to  be  struggling  still, 
When  over  us  we  hear  the  lark,  at  morn, 
Lost  in  the  sky,  her  quivering  carol  trill ; 
When  o'er  the  mountains'  pine-clad  summits  drear 
The  eagle  wheels  afar  on  outstretched  wing, 
When  over  flat  and  over  mere 
The  crane  is  homewards  labouring. 

WAGNER. 

I  too  have  often  had  my  whims  and  moods, 
But  never  was  by  such  an  impulse  stirred. 
A  man  soon  looks  his  fill  at  fields  and  woods ; 
The  wings  I  ne'er  shall  envy  of  a  bird. 
How  differently  the  spirit's  pure  delights 
Waft  us  from  book  to  book,  from  page  to  page ! 
They  give  a  beauty  to  the  winter's  nights, 
A  cheerful  glow  that  can  its  chill  assuage. 
And  some  fine  manuscript  when  you  unroll, 
Ah,  then  all  heaven  descends  into  your  soul ! 

FAUST. 

One  only  aspiration  thou  hast  known, 

Oh,  never  seek  to  know  the  other,  never ! 

Two  souls,  alas !  within  my  bosom  throne, 

That  each  from  other  fiercely  longs  to  sever. 

One,  with  a  passionate  love  that  never  tires, 

Cleaves  as  with  cramps  of  steel  to  things  of  earth, 

The  other  upwards  through  earth's  mists  aspires 

To  kindred  regions  of  a  loftier  worth. 

Oh,  in  the  air  if  spirits  be, 

That  float  'twixt  earth  and  heaven,  and  lord  it  there, 

Then  from  your  golden  haze  descend,  and  me 

Far  hence  to  fields  of  new  existence  bear ! 

Yes,  if  a.  magic  mantle  were  but  mine. 

To  stranger  lands  to  waft  me  at  my  call, 


54  FAUST 

I'd  prize  it  more  than  robes  of  costliest  shine, 
I  would  not  change  it  for  a  monarch's  pall. 


WAGNER. 

The  too  familiar  throng  invoke  not,  who, 

In  trailing  vapours  spread  upon  the  wind, 

Come  trooping  from  all  quarters,  where  they  brew 

Unnumbered  plagues  and  perils  for  mankind. 

The  sharp-fanged  spirits  of  the  North,  lo,  they 

Come  rushing  down  on  you  with  arrowy  tongues ; 

Those  of  the  East,  they  parch  you  dry  as  hay, 

And  suck  a  slow  nutrition  from  your  lungs. 

If  from  the  desert  sands  the  South  sends  out 

Those  that  heap  fire  on  fire  around  your  brain, 

The  West  brings  those  that  first  refresh,  no  doubt, 

But  end  with  drowning  you,  and  field,  and  plain. 

They  watch  our  every  word,  on  mischief  bent, 

Obey  each  wish,  yet  turn  them  all  awry, 

They  look  as  if  from  heaven  expressly  sent, 

And  lisp  like  very  angels  when  they  lie. 

But  let  us  go !  the  earth  is  wrapt  in  gray ; 

The  air  grows  chill,  the  mists  are  falling. 

'Tis  evening  makes  us  prize  our  homes.     But,  hey ! 

Why  stare  you  thus,  as  at  some  sight  appalling  ? 

What  in  the  dusk  there  fills  you  with  such  trouble  ? 

FAUST. 

Seest  thou  yon  black  dog  coursing  through  the  stubble  ? 

WAGNER. 

I  saw  him  long  ago,  but  heeded  not  the  least. 

FAUST. 

Observe  him  well !     For  what  tak'st  thou  the  beast  ? 


FAUST  55 


WAGNER. 


Why,  for  a  poodle,  trying  to  hark  back, 
In  doglike  wise,  upon  his  master's  track. 


FAUST. 


See  how  he  doth  in  spiral  circles  make 
A  circuit  round  us,  wheeling  nigh  and  nigher ! 
And  after  him  —  it  can  be  no  mistake  — 
There  follows,  as  he  runs,  a  trail  of  fire. 

WAGNER. 

Nought  but  a  coal-black  poodle  can  I  see ; 
It  must  some  optical  illusion  be. 

FAUST. 

To  me  it  seems,  that  round  our  feet  he  draws 
Fine  magic  toils  to  snare  us,  fast  and  faster. 

WAGNER. 

Eound  us  he  runs  perplexed  and  shy,  because 
He  sees  two  strangers  here,  and  not  his  master. 

FAUST. 

The  circle  narrows.     He  touches  us  almost. 

WAGNER. 

'Tis  a  mere  dog,  you  see,  and  not  a  ghost. 

He  growls,  hangs  back,  lies  down,  begins  to  whine, 

Waggles  his  tail  —  all  practices  canine. 

FAUST. 

Here,  go  along  with  us  !     Come  hither,  come ! 


56  FAUST 


WAGNER. 


A  merry  beast  it  is,  and  frolicsome. 
Stand  still,  and  he  sits  up  and  begs, 
Speak  to  him,  and  he  jumps  upon  your  legs ; 
Lose  anything,  he'll  find  it  for  you  quick, 
And  leap  into  the  water  for  your  stick. 


FAUST. 

Thou'rt  right !     I  find  not  of  a  spirit  here 
One  single  trace :  'tis  training  all,  that's  clear. 

WAGNER. 

The  dog,  if  well  brought  up,  may  be 

Even  for  the  sage  good  company : 

Your  favour,  possibly  your  thanks, 

He  certainly  deserves  to  earn ; 

The  students,  sir,  have  taught  him  all  these  pranks, 

Which  he  has  shown  much  aptitude  to  learn. 

\Tliey  pass  in  at  the  gate  of  the  town. 


Scene   III.  —  Faust's  Study. 

faust  (entering  with  the  poodle). 

Meadow  I've  left,  and  dale  and  hill, 

In  night's  deep  gloom  arrayed,  that  wakes 
Within  us,  with  a  solemn  thrill, 

The  mood  winch  most  of  heaven  partakes : 
Each  wild  desire  is  lulled  to  rest, 

That  rent  the  heart,  or  racked  the  brow ; 
The  love  of  man  now  fires  the  breast, 

The  love  of  God  is  kindling  now. 

Peace,  dog,  be  quiet !     Your  restlessness  wearies  ! 
Why  sniff  you  so  at  the  threshold  there  ? 


FAUST  57 

Down,  sir,  behind  the  stove !     See,  here  is 

The  best  of  my  cushions,  to  make  you  a  lair. 

We  did  not  object  to  your  coursing  and  leaping, 

It  served  to  amuse  us  up  there  on  the  hill, 

But  if  you  are  to  remain  in  my  keeping, 

You  must  learn,  like  a  well-mannered  guest,  to  be  still. 

Ah  !  when  within  our  narrow  room 

The  friendly  lamp  again  is  lit, 
Then  from  our  spirit  flies  the  gloom 

That  dulled  and  overshadowed  it. 
Reason  begins  once  more  to  speak, 

And  Hope  again  to  plume  her  wings ; 
After  life's  streams  we  pant,  yea,  seek 

The  very  fountain  whence  it  springs. 

Cease,  dog,  to  growl !     The  brutish  sound 

Jars  with  the  hallowed  tones  that  all 

My  soul  at  this  sweet  hour  enthral ! 

We  think  it  not  strange,  when  men  around 

Deride  the  things  they  comprehend  not, 

And  all  that  is  fairest  and  best  contemn, 

For  how  should  such  things  their  vile  natures  offend 

not? 
Would  the  hound  be  snarling  at  these,  like  them  ? 

But  ah !  I  feel,  strive  as  I  may,  that  peace 

Will  well  forth  from  my  bosom  nevermore. 

Yet,  wherefore  should  its  streams  so  quickly  cease, 

And  we  lie  parched  and  panting  as  before  ? 

So  oft  have  I  been  doomed  thus  low  to  fall. 

Yet  for  this  want  we  may  have  compensation ; 

We  learn  to  prize  the  supernatural, 

And  cry  with  yearning  hearts  for  Revelation, 

Which  nowhere  burns  more  worthilv  and  clear, 

Than  all  through  the  New  Testament.     So  here 


58  FAUST 

I  turn  me  to  the  primal  text,  elate 
With  a  wild  longing,  line  for  line, 
The  great  original  divine 
Into  my  own  dear  German  to  translate. 

[Opens  the  volume,  and  prepares  to  vjrite. 
"  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Word  !  "     Tis  writ. 
Here  on  the  threshold  I  must  pause,  perforce ; 
And  who  will  help  me  onwards  in  my  course  ? 
No,  by  no  possibility  is't  fit 
I  should  the  naked  Word  so  highly  rate. 
Some  other  way  must  I  the  words  translate, 
If  by  the  Spirit  rightly  I  be  taught. 
"  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Sense  !  "     'Tis  writ. 
The  first  line  ponder  well.     Is  it 
The  Sense,  which  is  of  each  created  thing 
The  primal  cause,  and  regulating  spring  ? 
It  should  stand  thus :  "  In  the  Beginning  was 
The  Force ! "     Yet  even  as  I  write,  I  pause. 
A  something  warns  me,  this  will  not  content  me. 
Lo  !  help  is  from  the  Spirit  sent  me ! 
I  see  my  way ;  with  lightning  speed 
The  meaning  flashes  on  my  sight, 
And  with  assured  conviction  thus  I  write : 
"  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Deed  ! " 

My  chamber  if  you  wish  to  share, 
This  howling,  poodle,  straight  forbear, 
This  barking,  and  this  riot ! 
To  brook  a  comrade  so  unquiet 
Is  more  than  I  am  able. 
Here  both  of  us  cannot  remain, 
And,  though  it  goes  against  my  grain 
To  be  inhospitable, 
There  is  the  door,  and  you  are  free 
To  go !     But  what  is  this  I  see  ? 
How  can  such  transformation  be? 
Is  it  a  real  thing,  or  throws 


FAUST  59 

Some  glamour  over  me  its  spells  ? 

How  long  and  broad  my  poodle  grows ! 

It  rises,  it  dilates  and  swells. 

This  is  no  dog :  what  can  it  be, 

This  fiend  I  have  brought  home  with  me  ? 

Now  with  Ms  fiery  eyes,  and  rows 

On  rows  of  horrid  teeth,  he  shows 

Like  any  hippopotamus ! 

Ha  !     Now  I  know  you  !     Is  it  thus  ? 

For  such  half-hell-begotten  brood 

The  seal  of  Solomon  is  good. 


spirits  (in  the  passage  outside). 

One  we  know  well 
Is  caught  fast  within  there. 
Mind  what  you're  doing, 
No  one  go  in  there ! 
An  old  lynx  of  hell, 
Like  a  fox  in  a  gin,  there 
Is  quaking  and  stewing. 
Have  a  care  !     Have  a  care  ! 
Unseen,  through  the  air, 
Flit  ye  and  hover, 
To  and  fro,  round  about, 
Now  under,  now  over, 
And  he  will  get  out ! 

Aid  him  all,  if  aid  ye  may  . 
He  has  done  us  ere  to-day 
Pleasures  manifold  and  rare ! 
Help  him,  then,  in  his  despair ! 

FAUST. 


To  grapple  with  the  monster,  I 

The  Spell  of  the  Four  at  first  will  try. 


6o  FAUST 

Salamander,  he  shall  glow, 
Into  streams  Undine  flow, 
Vanish  Sylph,  and,  Kobold,  double 
Shall  his  turmoil  be  and  trouble  ! 

If  a  man  know  not  the  lore 
Of  the  Elemental  Four, 
The  power  of  each  and  property, 
Of  the  world  of  spirits  he 
Never  will  the  master  be. 

Hence,  as  ye  came,  in  flash  and  flame, 

Salamander ! 
Flow  out  and  be  seen  a  rushing  stream. 

Undine  ! 
Blaze  on  the  air  a  meteor  fair, 

Sylph ! 
Us  with  timely  help  befriend, 

Incubus !    Incubus ! 
Come  forth,  come  forth,  and  make  an  end ! 

No  one  of  the  Four  is  lodged  in  the  beast. 
Tis  plain,  I  have  not  touched  the  case. 
Quite  still  he  lies,  and  grins  in  my  face, 
His  withers  I  have  not  wrung  in  the  least. 
Now  shall  ye  hear  me,  whatever  ye  are, 
Conjure  with  a  spell  more  potent  by  far. 

Com'st  thou  here,  from  hell's  confine 
A  fugitive,  behold  this  sign, 
Holy  emblem,  'neath  whose  power 
All  the  fiends  of  darkness  cower  ! 
Its  bristles  rise!     Behold  it   now  to  monstrous    size 
dilate ! 

Thou  thing  accursed  and  reprobate  ! 
Canst  thou  read  the  holy  token, 
Him  that  never  was  create, 


FAUST  6 1 

Him  that  never  may  be  spoken, 
All  from  sky  to  sky  pervading, 
Vilely  done  to  death  degrading  ? 

Spellbound  behind  the  stove  it  stands, 
And  like  an  elephant  expands ! 
It  fills  the  alcove  up  complete : 
Into  a  mist  'twill  melt  away. 
Ascend  not  to  the  ceiling !     Lay 
Thyself  down  at  the  master's  feet . 
Thou  seest,  I  threaten  not  in  vain. 
I'll  scorch  thee  up  with  holy  fire ! 
For  that  dread  light  best  not  remain, 
Which  burns  with  threefold  glow  !     Eetire, 
Nor  wait  till  I,  thou  spawn  of  hell, 
Let  loose  on  thee  my  mightiest  spell ! 

mephistopheles  (comes  forward,  as  the  mist  subsides, 
in  the  dress  of  a  travelling  scholar,  from  behind 
the  stove). 

What  is  the  use  of  all  this  mighty  stir  ? 
Can  I  in  anything  oblige  you,  sir  ? 

FAUST. 

So  this,  then,  was  the  kernel  of  the  brute  ! 
A  travelling  scholar  ?     Here's  a  pleasant  jest ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  learned  worship  humbly  I  salute. 
You  gave  me  a  fine  sweating,  I  protest. 

FAUST. 
What  is  thy  name  ? 


62  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Methinks  the  question's  mean, 
For  one  who  holds  the  Word  so  very  cheap, 
Who,  scorning  all  mere  semblances,  has  been 
Brooding  on  things  in  their  quintessence  deep ! 


FAUST. 

Of  gentlemen  like  you  one  may 

The  nature  mostly  from  the  names  surmise, 

Where  what  ye  are  they  all  too  plainly  say. 

When  they  "  Destroyer  "  style  you,  "  Flygod,  Prince  of 

Lies!" 
Speak,  then !     Who  art  thou  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Part  of  the  power  that  still 
Produces  Good,  while  still  devising  ilL 


FAUST. 

A  rare  enigma!     Say  what  it  implies. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  spirit  I  that  evermore  denies. 
And  rightly  am  I  thus  employed, 
For  surely  nought  was  e'er  begot 
But  it  deserved  to  be  destroyed  ; 
So  were  it  better,  things  should  not 
Be  into  being  brought  at  all. 
Thus  all  these  matters,  which  you  call 
Sin,  Mischief,  —  Evil  in  a  word, 
Are  my  congenial  element. 


FAUST  63 

FAUST. 

I  heard 
You  call  yourself  a  part,  yet  see 
You  stand  there  whole  as  whole  can  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Truth,  truth,  I  vow,  all  truth  and  modesty ! 

Though  man,  that  Microcosm  of  Folly,  seem 

A  perfect  whole  to  his  own  self-esteem, 

Myself  I,  being  less  pretentious,  call 

Part  of  the  part,  which  at  the  first  was  all ; 

Part  of  the  darkness,  from  whose  womb  sprang  light, 

Proud  light,  which  now  doth  with  its  dam  contest 

Her  ancient  rank,  the  space  she  filled  of  right ; 

And  yet  it  can't  succeed,  for,  strive  its  best, 

It  cleaves  to  bodies,  fettered  to  them  fast : 

It  streams  from  bodies,  makes  them  fair  and  bright ; 

A  body  intercepts  its  passage,  so 

I  hope,  when  bodies  come  to  grief  at  last, 

It  will  with  them  to  sheer  perdition  go. 

FAUST. 

Your  high  vocation  now  I  understand. 
You  find  you  can't  annihilate  wholesale, 
So  on  a  smaller  scale  you  try  your  hand. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  let  me  own,  to  very  small  avail. 

That  which  is  nothing's  opposite, 

This  something,  this  great  lumbering  world,  although 

I've  launched  at  it,  with  all  my  might, 

Storm,  deluge,  earthquake,  levin-brand, 

I  can't  effect  its  overthrow ; 

It  hangs  together  still,  good  sea  and  land. 

And  then  these  misbegots  accurst, 


64  FAUST 

This  spawn  of  brutes  and  men,  alas ! 

Defy  me,  let  me  try  my  worst. 

How  many  have  I  sent  to  grass ! 

Yet  young  fresh  blood,  do  what  I  will, 

Keeps  ever  circulating  still. 

In  water,  in  the  earth,  in  air, 

In  wet,  dry,  warm,  cold,  everywhere, 

Germs  without  number  are  unfurled. 

And  but  for  fire  and  fire  alone, 

There  would  be  nothing  in  the  world, 

That  I  could  truly  call  my  own. 


FAUST. 

So,  that  cold  devil's  fist  of  thine 

Thou  dost  not  scruple  to  oppose 

To  the  unsleeping  power  benign, 

Beneath  whose  breath  all  lives  and  grows ; 

It  laughs  to  scorn  your  threats  malign. 

Strange  son  of  chaos,  hadst  thou  not 

Best  start  upon  another  tack  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

It  certainly  is  worth  a  thought ! 
More  about  this  when  I  come  back, 
But  for  the  present  have  I  leave, 
Your  leave,  to  take  myself  away  ? 

FAUST. 

Why  you  should  ask,  I  can't  conceive. 
We're  strangers  from  this  hour  no  more  ; 
So  visit  me  in  future,  pray, 
Just  when  and  how  the  fancy  strikes  you. 
Here  is  the  window,  here  the  door, 
And  there  a  chimney,  if  it  likes  you. 


FAUST  65 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


I'd  very  quickly  make  my  exit, 
But  that  a  trifling  hindrance  checks  it ; 
The  wizard's  foot,  —  alas  !  'tis  true  — 
Upon  your  threshold  — 


FAUST. 

Ha,  'tis  well ! 
The  Pentagram  perplexes  you. 
But  answer  me,  thou  son  of  hell, 
If  that  can  thrust  you  backward,  how 
Contrived  you  to  get  in  but  now  ? 
How  came  a  spirit  so  astute 
To  tumble  into  such  a  snare  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You'll  find,  if  you  look  closely  to  't, 
It  is  not  drawn  with  proper  care. 
The  outer  angle's  incomplete. 
You  may  discover  at  a  glance, 
The  lines  converge,  but  do  not  meet. 


FAUST. 

That  was  indeed  a  lucky  chance  ! 
So  you  should  be  my  prisoner,  then  ? 
Most  rare  good  fortune,  truly  ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

When 
The  poodle  bounded  in,  he  took 
No  heed  of  what  he  was  about. 
Now  things  wear  quite  another  look  ; 
The  devil's  in,  and  can't  get  out. 


66  FAUST 

FAUST. 

Why  through  the  window  not  withdraw  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Of  fiends  and  goblins  'tis  a  law, 
Get  in  howe'er  they  please,  but  so 
As  they  came  in,  out  they  must  go. 
Free  in  the  first  choice,  in  the  last 
We're  very  slaves ! 

FAUST. 

So  even  hell 
Has  got  its  legal  code.     Tis  well. 
Then  with  you  gentlemen  a  fast 
And  binding  contract  may  be  made  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ay,  and  implicitly  obeyed. 

Whate'er  is  promised  you  by  us 

You  to  the  letter  shall  enjoy, 

Without  abatement  or  alloy. 

A  theme  too  grave  this  to  discuss 

So  hurriedly ;  when  next  we  meet, 

We'll  talk  it  fully  out ;  but  now 

I  beg,  nay,  earnestly  entreat, 

This  once  you'll  let  me  make  my  bow. 

FAUST. 

One  moment,  by  your  leave  !     I  burn 
For  such  rare  news  as  yours  must  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Let  me  go  now,  I'll  soon  return, 
And  then  ask  what  you  like  of  me. 


FAUST  67 


FAUST. 


Of  choice,  and  not  by  my  device, 
You  ran  yourself  into  this  plight. 
Once  catch  the  devil,  hold  him  tight ! 
He'll  scarcely  let  you  catch  him  twice. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


Well,  if  you  wish  it,  here  I  stay, 
On  one  condition,  that  the  while 
I  with  my  sleights  familiar  may 
Your  moments  worthily  beguile. 


FAUST. 

Agreed  !  you  have  my  leave,  —  but  mind 
Your  sleights  are  of  the  pleasing  kind  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Within  this  hour,  my  friend,  be  sure, 
You  for  your  senses  shall  procure 
More  than  you  heretofore  have  found 
Within  the  year's  unvaried  round. 
The  songs  my  dainty  spirits  sing, 
The  lovely  visions  which  they  bring, 
Are  no  mere  empty  glamour,  no  ! 
Your  very  smell  entranced  shall  be, 
Your  palate  lapped  in  ecstasy, 
Your  every  nerve  with  rapture  glow. 
No  preparation  here  we  need. 
We're  in  our  places,  so  proceed ! 

SPIRITS. 

Disappear,  disappear, 
Ye  dark  arches  drear  ! 
Let  the  blue  sky  of  heaven 
Look  down  on  us  here, 


68  FAUST 


The  beautiful  blue  sky, 
With  friendliest  cheer ! 
Hence,  clouds,  begone, 
That  gloomily  darkle ! 
Lo  now,  anon, 
Little  stars  sparkle, 
Mellower  suns 
Shine  in  on  us  here  ! 
Heaven's  sons,  bright 
In  the  spirit's  arraying, 
In  hovering  flight 
Are  bending  and  swaying. 
Souls  with  a  passionate 
Upward  aspiring, 
View  them,  pursue  them, 
Soaring  untiring ! 
And  ribbons  gay 
Are  flashing  and  gleaming, 
"Where  lovers  stray, 
Musing  and  dreaming, 
Stray  on  by  grove 
And  meadow,  requiting 
Love  with  return  of  love, 
Life  for  life  plighting  ! 
Bower  on  bower  shining ! 
Tendrils  entwining ! 
Grapes  in  huge  clusters 
Piled  up  profuse, 
Under  the  wine-press 
Spurting  their  juice. 
Seething  and  foaming, 
Wines  gush  into  rills, 
O'er  the  enamelled  stones 
Rush  from  the  hills, 
Broaden  to  lakes,  that 
Reflect  from  their  sheen 
Mountains  and  brakes,  that 


He  sleeps !     Well  done,  ye  Utile  airy  sprites ! 

.  Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  A.  Liezen-Meyer 


FAUST  69 

Are  mantled  in  green. 

And  birds  of  all  feather, 

Pure  rapture  inhaling, 

Sunwards  are  sailing, 

Sailing  together, 

On  to  the  isles 

That  lie  smiling  and  dreaming, 

Where  the  bright  billows 

Are  rippling  and  gleaming ; 

Where  we  see  jocund  bands 

Dance  on  before  us, 

Over  the  meadow-lands 

Shouting  in  chorus, 

All  in  the  free  air 

Every  way  rambling ; 

Some  up  the  mountains 

Climbing  and  scrambling ; 

Some  o'er  the  lakes  and  seas 

Floating  and  swimming, 

Others  upon  the  breeze 

Flying  and  skimming ; 

All  to  the  sources 

Of  life  pressing  onward, 

Flushed  by  the  forces 

That  carry  them  sunward ; 

On  to  the  measureless 

Spaces  above  them, 

On  where  the  stars  bless 

The  spirits  that  love  them. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

He  sleeps  !     Well  done,  ye  little  airy  sprites  S 
You've  fairly  lullabied  his  wits  to  sleep : 
I'm  in  your  debt  for  these  melodious  sleights. 
Thou'rt  not  the  man,  at  least  not  yet,  to  keep 
The  devil  in  thy  clutch.     Around  him  play 
With  soothing  visions  from  the  realm  of  dream ; 


7o  FAUST 

Across  his  brain  let  wild  illusions  stray, 

And  fool  his  fancy  with  their  meteor  gleam  ! 

Ha !  tooth  of  rat,  methinks,  would  serve  me  well, 

To  break  me  up  this  threshold's  spell. 

No  need  of  lengthened  conjuration.     Hark  ! 

There  rustles  one  my  voice  will  quickly  mark ! 

The  master  of  the  rats  and  mice, 
Of  flies,  and  frogs,  and  bugs,  and  lice, 
Commands  you  straightway  to  appear, 
And  nibble  at  this  threshold  here, 
Where  now  he  smears  it  o'er  with  oil. 
Ha  !     Here  you  are  !     Now,  to  your  toil ! 
The  point  that  kept  me  back  lies  there 
Just  in  the  front,  beside  the  stair. 
One  nibble  more,  your  task's  complete ! 
Now,  Faustus,  now  dream  on  till  next  we  meet. 

[Exit. 
faust  (awaking). 

Am  I  again  befooled  ?     Vauish  they  so, 
The  throng  of  spirits  that  my  fancy  shaped  ? 
Was  then  the  fiend  a  dream,  a  lying  show, 
And  that  a  poodle  which  but  now  escaped  ? 

ACT    II. 

Scene  I.  —  Faust's  Study. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

faust. 
A  knock  ?     Come  in  !     Again  my  quiet  broken  ? 

mephistopheles. 
'Tis  I. 


FAUST  71 

FAUST. 

Come  in ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thrice  must  the  words  be  spoken. 

FAUST. 

Come  in,  then ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (entering). 

So  !     That  job's  discussed. 
We  shall  be  firmer  friends,  I  trust ; 
For,  to  dispel  your  fancies  grim, 
Behold  me  here,  a  springald  trim, 
In  jerkin  red,  and  laced  with  gold, 
A  cape  of  stiff  est  silk,  a  bold 
Cock-feather  in  my  cap  ;  and  see  ! 
A  long  sharp  rapier  to  boot ! 
Now,  prithee,  be  advised  by  me, 
And  get  just  such  another  suit ; 
So,  casting  every  trammel  loose, 
You'll  learn  what  life  is,  and  its  use. 

FAUST. 

In  every  dress  I'm  sure  to  feel  the  dire 

Constraints  of  earthly  life  severely : 

I  am  too  old  to  trifle  merely, 

Too  young  to  be  without  desire. 

What  from  the  world  have  I  to  gain  ? 

"  Thou  shalt  refrain  !     Thou  shalt  refrain  ! " 

This  is  the  everlasting  song 

That's  hummed  and  droned  in  every  ear, 

Which  every  hour,  our  whole  life  long, 

Is  croaked  to  us  in  cadence  drear. 

I  wake  each  morning  in  despair, 

And  bitter  tears  could  weep,  to  see  the  sun 


72  FAUST 

Dawn  on  the  day,  that  in  its  round  will  ne'er 
Accomplish  one  poor  wish  of  mine,  not  one ;  — 
Yea,  that  with  froward  captiousness  impairs 
Each  joy,  of  which  I've  dreamt,  of  half  its  zest, 
And  with  life's  thousand  mean  and  paltry  cares 
Clogs  the  creations  of  my  busy  breast. 
And  when  at  evening's  weary  close 
I  lay  me  down  in  anguish  on  my  bed, 
There,  even  there,  for  me  is  no  repose, 
Scared  as  I  am  by  visions  wild  and  dread. 
The  god,  who  in  my  breast  abides, 
Through  all  its  depths  can  stir  my  soul, 
My  every  faculty  he  sways  and  guides, 
Yet  can  he  not  what  lies  without  control. 
And  thus  by  life,  as  by  a  load,  oppressed, 
I  long  for  death,  existence  I  detest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  yet  death  never  is  a  wholly  welcome  guest ! 

FAUST. 

Oh,  happy  he  around  whose  brows  he  winds 

In  victory's  glorious  hour  the  blood-stained  bays, 

Whom  on  the  bosom  of  his  girl  he  finds, 

Warm  from  the  dance's  wild  and  maddening  maze ! 

Oh,  had  it  been,  'neath  that  high  spirit's  might, 

My  fate,  while  tranced  in  bliss,  in  death  to  sink ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yet  was  there  one,  who  on  a  certain  night 
A  certain  dark-brown  mixture  feared  to  drink. 

FAUST. 

You  have  a  taste,  it  seems,  for  playing  spy. 


FAUST  73 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Omniscient,  no !     Still  few  things  'scape  my  eye. 

FAUST. 

If,  when  my  brain  was  racked  and  reeling, 
A  sweet  and  old  familiar  chime 
Beguiled  my  all  of  childish  feeling 
With  memories  of  a  happier  time, 
Now  do  I  curse  whate'er  doth  pen 
With  wizard  coil  these  souls  of  ours, 
And  chains  them  to  this  dreary  den 
With  cozening  and  deceitful  powers. 
And  chief  be  curst  the  proud  conceit, 
Which  girds  our  minds  as  with  a  fence ; 
Curst  be  the  semblances  that  cheat, 
And  play  and  palter  with  our  sense ! 
Curst  be  the  false  and  flattering  dream 
Of  fame  —  a  name  beyond  the  grave, 
Curst  all  that  ours  we  fondly  deem, 
As  wife  and  child,  as  plough  and  slave ! 
Be  Mammon  curst,  when  he  with  pelf 
Inspires  to  deeds  were  else  renown, 
When  he,  to  sot  and  pamper  self, 
Makes  silken  smooth  our  couch  of  down ! 
On  wine's  balsamic  juice  a  curse, 
A  curse  on  love's  ecstatic  thrall, 
A  curse  on  hope,  on  faith,  and  worse 
On  patience  be  my  curse  than  all ! 

Chorus  of  Invisible  Spirits. 

Woe,  woe ! 

Thus  hast  laid  it  low, 

The  beautiful  world, 

With  merciless  blow. 

It  totters,  it  crumbles,  it  tumbles  abroad, 

Shattered  and  crushed  by  a  demigod. 


74  FAUST 

We  trail 

The  ruins  to  chaos  away, 

And  wail 

The  beauty  that's  lost,  well-a-day  ! 

Of  the  children  of  clay, 

Thou  mighty  one,  thou, 

Fairer,  more  glorious,  now 

Build  it  once  more, 

Within  thine  own  bosom  build  it  up !     Here 

A  new  life-career 

With  quickened  sense 

Commence ! 

And  songs,  unheard  before, 

Shall  chime  upon  thine  ear  ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  my  tiny  spirits  be. 

Hark,  with  what  sagacity 

They  advise  thee  to  pursue 

Action,  pleasure  ever  new ! 

Out  into  the  world  so  fair 

They  would  lure  and  lead  thee  hence, 

From  this  lonely  chamber,  where 

Stagnate  life  and  soul  and  sense. 

No  longer  trifle  with  the  wretchedness, 

That,  like  a  vulture,  gnaws  your  life  away ! 

The  worst  society  will  teach  you  this, 

You  are  a  man  'mongst  men,  and  feel  as  they. 

Yet  'tis  not  meant,  I  pray  you,  see, 

To  thrust  you  'mong  the  rabble  rout ;  — 

I'm  none  of  your  great  folks,  no  doubt, 

But  if,  in  fellowship  with  me, 

To  range  through  life  you  are  content, 

I  will  most  cheerfully  consent 


FAUST  75 

To  be  your  own  upon  the  spot. 
I  am  your  chum.     You'd  rather  not  ? 
Well !     If  your  scruples  it  will  save, 
I  am  your  servant,  yea,  your  slave ! 

FAUST. 

And  in  return  what  must  I  do  for  you  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  time  enough  to  talk  of  that ! 

FAUST. 

Nay,  nay ! 
The  devil's  selfish  —  is  and  was  alway  — 
And  is  not  like  for  mere  God's  sake  to  do 
A  liberal  turn  to  any  child  of  clay. 
Out  with  the  terms,  and  plainly  !     Such  as  thou 
Are  dangerous  servants  in  a  house,  I  trow. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  bind  myself  to  serve  you  here,  —  to  do 
Your  bidding  promptly,  whatsoe'er  it  be, 
And,  when  we  come  together  yonder,  you 
Are  then  to  do  the  same  for  me. 

FAUST. 

I  prize  that  yonder  at  a  rush ! 
Only  this  world  to  atoms  crush, 
And  then  that  other  may  arise ! 
From  earth  my  every  pleasure  flows, 
Yon  Sun  looks  down  upon  my  woes ; 
Let  me  but  part  myself  from  those, 
Then  come  what  may,  in  any  guise ! 
To  idle  prate  I'll  close  mine  ears, 
If  we  hereafter  hate  or  love, 


76  FAUST 

Or  if  there  be  in  yonder  spheres, 
As  here,  an  Under  and  Above ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You're  in  the  proper  mood  to  venture !     Bind 
Yourself,  and  pleasure  in  my  sleights  you'll  find, 
While  this  life  lasts.     I'll  give  you  more 
Than  eye  of  man  hath  ever  seen  before. 

FAUST. 

What  wilt  thou  give,  thou  sorry  devil  ?     When 

Were  the  aspiring  souls  of  men 

Fathomed  by  such  a  thing  as  thee  ? 

Oh,  thou  hast  food  that  satisfieth  never, 

Gold,  ruddy  gold  thou  hast,  that  restlessly 

Slips,  like  quicksilver,  through  the  hand  for  ever ; 

A  game,  where  we  must  losers  be ; 

A  girl,  that,  on  my  very  breast, 

My  neighbour  woos  with  smile  and  wink ; 

Fame's  rapturous  flash  of  godlike  zest, 

That,  meteor-like,  is  doomed  to  sink. 

Show  me  the  fruit  that,  ere  'tis  plucked,  doth  rot, 

And  trees  that  every  day  grow  green  anew ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  task  as  this  affrights  me  not. 
I  have  such  treasures  at  command  for  you. 
But,  my  good  friend,  the  time  draws  nigh 
When  we  may  banquet  on  the  best  in  peace ! 

FAUST. 

If  e'er  at  peace  on  sluggard's  couch  I  lie, 
Then  may  my  life  upon  the  instant  cease ! 
Cheat  thou  me  ever  by  thy  glozing  wile, 
So  that  I  cease  to  scorn  myself,  or  e'er 


FAUST  77 


My  senses  with  a  perfect  joy  beguile, 
Then  be  that  day  my  last !     I  offer  fair, 
How  say'st  thou  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Done ! 

FAUST. 

My  hand  upon  it !     There ! 
If  to  the  passing  moment  e'er  I  say, 
"  Oh,  linger  yet,  thou  art  so  fair !  " 
Then  cast  me  into  chains  you  may, 
Then  will  I  die  without  a  care ! 
Then  may  the  death-bell  sound  its  call, 
Then  art  thou  from  thy  service  free, 
The  clock  may  stand,  the  index  fall, 
And  time  and  tide  may  cease  for  me  ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Think  well ;  we  sha'n't  forget  the  terms  you  name. 

FAUST. 

Your  perfect  right  I  must  allow. 

Not  rashly  to  the  pact  I  came. 

I  am  a  slave  as  I  am  now ; 

Yours  or  another's,  'tis  to  me  the  same ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Then  at  the  Doctors'  feast  this  very  day 

Will  I  my  post,  as  your  attendant,  take. 

Just  one  thing  more !     To  guard  against  mistake, 

Oblige  me  with  a  line  or  two,  I  pray. 


78  FAUST 


FAUST. 


Pedant,  must  thou  have  writing,  too  ? 

Hast  thou  no  true  man,  or  man's  promise,  known  ? 

Is  not  my  word  of  mouth  enough  for  you, 

To  pledge  my  days  for  all  eternity  ? 

Does  not  the  universe  go  raving  on, 

In  all  its  ever-eddying  currents,  free 

To  pass  from  change  to  change,  and  I  alone, 

Shall  a  mere  promise  curb  or  fetter  me  ? 

Yet  doth  man's  heart  so  hug  the  dear  deceit, 

Who  would  its  hold  without  a  pang  undo  ? 

Blest  he,  whose  soul  is  with  pure  truth  replete, 

No  sacrifice  shall  ever  make  him  rue. 

But,  oh,  your  stamped  and  scribbled  parchment  sheet 

A  spectre  is,  which  all  men  shrink  to  view. 

The  word  dies  ere  it  quits  the  pen, 

And  wax  and  sheepskin  lord  it  then. 

What  would  you  have,  spirit  of  ill ! 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper  ?  —  Say, 

Am  I  to  write  with  pen,  or  style,  or  graver  ? 

I  care  not  —  choose  whiche'er  you  will. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Why  throw  your  eloquence  away, 

Or  give  it  such  a  very  pungent  savour  ? 

Pshaw  !     Any  scrap  will  do  —  'tis  quite  the  same  — 

With  the  least  drop  of  blood  just  sign  your  name. 

FAUST. 

If  that  will  make  you  happy,  why,  a  claim 
So  very  whimsical  I'll  freely  favour. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Blood  is  a  juice  of  quite  peculiar  kind. 


FAUST  79 

FAUST. 

Fear  not  that  I  the  compact  will  evade ! 

My  life's  whole  struggle,  heart  and  mind, 

Chimes  with  the  promise  I  have  made. 

Too  high  I've  soared  —  too  proudly  dreamt, 

I'm  only  peer  for  such  as  thee ; 

The  Mighty  Spirit  spurns  me  with  contempt, 

And  Nature  veils  her  face  from  me. 

Thought's  chain  is  snapt ;  —  for  many  a  day 

I've  loathed  all  knowledge  every  way. 

So  quench  we  now  our  passion's  fires 

In  sense  and  sensual  delights, 

Unveil  all  hidden  magic  sleights, 

To  minister  to  our  desires  ! 

Let  us  plunge  in  the  torrent  of  time,  and  range 

Through  the  weltering  chaos  of  chance  and  change, 

Then  pleasure  and  pain,  disaster  and  gain, 

May  course  one  another  adown  my  brain. 

Change  and  excitement  may  work  as  they  can, 

Rest  there  is  none  for  the  spirit  of  man. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

To  you  is  set  nor  goal  nor  stint. 
If  you'd  sip  the  sweetest  of  everything, 
And  hawk  at  pleasure  upon  the  wing, 
Much  joy,  I'm  sure,  I  wish  you  in't. 
Only  fall  to,  and  don't  be  coy. 

FAUST. 

Again  I  say,  my  thoughts  are  not  of  joy. 
I  devote  myself  to  the  whirl  and  roar, 
To  the  bliss  that  throbs  with  a  pulse  like  pain, 
To  the  hate  that  we  dote  on  and  fondle  o'er, 
The  defeat  that  inspirits  both  nerves  and  brain. 
Of  its  passion  for  knowledge  cured,  my  soul 


80  FAUST 

Henceforth  shall  expand  to  all  forms  of  woe, 

And  all  that  is  all  human  nature's  dole 

In  my  heart  of  hearts  I  shall  feel  and  know ; 

With  highest,  lowest,  in  spirit  I  shall  cope  ; 

Pile  on  my  breast  their  joys,  their  griefs,  their  cares, 

So  all  men's  souls  shall  come  within  my  scope, 

And  mine  at  last  go  down  a  wreck  like  theirs. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  trust  to  me,  who  have  through  many  a  year 

On  this  tough  morsel  chewed  the  cud, 

That  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier 

No  man  of  mortal  flesh  and  blood 

Hath  e'er  digested  the  old  leaven. 

Trust  one  of  us,  this  whole  so  vast 

Is  only  for  the  God  of  Heaven ! 

In  everlasting  radiance  He  is  glassed, 

Us  hath  He  into  outer  darkness  cast, 

And  you,  you  mortals,  only  may 

See  day  succeed  to  night,  and  night  to  day. 

FAUST. 

Nay,  but  I  will. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That's  well  enough  to  say ; 
Only  I  don't  quite  see  my  way. 
Art's  long,  time  short.     You'd  best  permit 
Yourself  to  be  advised  a  bit. 
Club  with  a  poet ;  soaring  free, 
Let  him  the  realm  of  fancy  sweep, 
And  every  noble  quality 
Upon  your  honoured  forehead  heap ; 
The  lion's  magnanimity, 
The  fleetness  of  the  hind, 


FAUST  8 I 

The  fiery  blood  of  Italy, 
The  Northern's  constant  mind. 
Let  him  for  you  the  art  divine, 
High  aims  with  cunning  to  combine, 
And,  with  young  blood  at  fever  full, 
To  love  on  system  and  by  rule. 
A  gentleman  of  such  a  kind 
I  should  myself  be  glad  to  find, 
And,  'sooth,  by  me  so  rare  a  wight 
Should  be  Sir  Microcosmus  hight. 

FAUST. 

What  am  I,  then,  if  never  by  no  art 

The  crown  of  mortal  nature  may  be  gained, 

For  which  our  every  energy  is  strained  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thou  art,  when  all's  done,  what  thou  art. 
A  periwig  with  countless  ringlets  buy, 
Array  thy  feet  in  socks  a  cubit  high, 
Still,  still  thou  wilt  remain  just  what  thou  art. 

FAUST. 

Tis  true,  I  feel !     In  vain  have  I  amassed 
Within  me  all  the  treasures  of  man's  mind, 
And  when  I  pause,  and  sit  me  down  at  last, 
No  new  power  welling  inwardly  I  find ; 
A  hairbreadth  is  not  added  to  my  height. 
I  am  no  nearer  to  the  Infinite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Good  sir,  you  view  these  matters  just 
As  any  common  mortal  would  ; 
But  take  a  higher  strain  we  must, 
Nor  let  life's  joys  our  grasp  elude. 


82  FAUST 

Why,  what  the  deuce !     Sure,  foot  and  hand, 

And  blood  and  brain  are  yours !     And  what 

I  can  enjoy,  control,  command, 

Is  it  the  less  my  own  for  that  ? 

If  I  for  horses  six  can  pay, 

Their  powers  are  added  to  my  store ; 

A  proper  man  I  dash  away, 

As  though  I  had  legs  twenty-four. 

Up,  then,  no  more  a  dreamer  be, 

But  forth  into  the  world  with  me ! 

I  tell  you  what,  your  speculating  wretch 

Is  like  a  beast  upon  a  barren  waste, 

Round,  ever  round,  by  an  ill  spirit  chased, 

Whilst  all  about  him  fair  green  pastures  stretch. 

FAUST. 

But  how  begin  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  start  at  once. 
Ugh  !  what  a  place  of  torture  dire  ! 
Call  you  this  hfe  —  yourself  to  tire, 
And  some  few  youngsters,  each  a  dunce  ? 
Leave  that  to  neighbour  Paunch  to  do. 
Why  plague  yourself  with  threshing  straw  ? 
What's  best  of  all  that's  known  to  you, 
You  dare  not  tell  these  striplings  raw. 
I  hear  one  now  upon  the  stair. 

FAUST. 

I  cannot  see  him. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Long  and  late, 
Poor  boy,  he's  waited.     In  despair 


FAUST  83 

We  must  not  send  him  from  the  gate. 
Give  me  your  cap  and  gown :   the  mask, 
You'll  see,  will  fit  me  to  a  hair. 

[Changes  his  dress. 
Now  leave  all  to  my  wit.     I  ask 
But  fifteen  minutes.     Go  now  !     There  ! 
And  for  our  pleasant  trip  prepare.       [Exit  Faust. 


mephistopheles  (putting  on  faust's  gown). 

Only  scorn  reason,  knowledge,  all  that  can 

Give  strength,  or  might,  or  dignity  to  man, 

And  let  thyself  be  only  more  and  more 

Besotted  by  the  spirit  of  lies 

With  faith  in  necromantic  lore, 

Its  shams,  delusions,  sorceries, 

And  thou  art  mine  beyond  recall !  — 

Fate  to  this  man  a  soul  has  given 

That  brooks  not  to  be  held  in  thrall, 

But  onward  evermore  is  driven, 

And,  on  its  own  mad  fancies  bent, 

In  earth's  delights  finds  no  content. 

Him  will  I  drag  through  all  the  fires 

Of  passions,  appetites,  desires, 

Through  all  the  dull  unmeaning  round 

Of  man  and  woman,  sight  and  sound. 

Oh,  he  shall  sprawl,  be  stunned,  stick  fast 

In  sheer  bewilderment  at  last. 

His  longings  infinite  to  whet, 

Dainties  and  drink  shall  dance  before 

His  fevered  lips ;  nor  shall  he  get 

The  peace  he'll  pray  for  evermore. 

Here  and  hereafter  such  as  he 

Are  marked  for  doom ;    and  even  although 

He  had  not  sold  himself  to  me, 

He  must  perforce  have  come  to  woe. 


84  FAUST 

Enter  a  Student. 


student. 


To  town  quite  recently  I  came, 
And  make  it,  sir,  my  earliest  care 
To  see  and  talk  with  one  whose  name 
Is  named  with  reverence  everywhere. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You're  too  polite  !     A  man  you  see, 
Like  scores  of  other  men,  in  me. 
Elsewhere  have  you  not  found  your  way  ? 

STUDENT. 

Take  me  in  hand,  oh,  do,  sir,  pray  ! 
I've  every  wish,  nay,  have,  in  truth, 
A  very  passion,  to  be  taught, 
Some  money,  too,  and  health  and  youth ; 
My  mother  scarcely  could  be  brought 
To  part  with  me ;   but  come  I  would, 
To  learn  whate'er  'tis  best  I  should. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  such  be  really  the  case, 

You've  come  to  just  the  proper  place. 

STUDENT. 

Yet  I,  the  honest  truth  to  say, 
Already  wish  myself  away  ! 
These  walls  and  lecture-rooms  I  find 
By  no  means  of  a  pleasant  kind. 
All  is  so  close,  so  cramped,  so  mean, 
No  trees,  nor  anything  that's  green,  — 
Mewed  up  in  them,  my  spirits  sink ; 
I  neither  hear,  nor  see,  nor  thiuk. 


FAUST  85 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Habit  alone  cures  that.     Just  so 
The  child  at  first  will  not,  you  know, 
Take  kindly  to  its  mother's  breast, 
But  soon  it  suckles  there  with  zest. 
Even  thus  at  wisdom's  breast  will  you 
Each  day  find  pleasure  ever  new. 

STUDENT. 

Upon  her  neck  I'll  hang  with  joy ;   the  way 
To  clamber  there,  do  you,  sir,  only  say. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ere  you  go  further,  say,  on  which 
Of  all  the  faculties  your  fancies  pitch. 

STUDENT. 

Sir,  my  ambition  is  to  be 
A  scholar  widely  read  and  sound, 
All  things  on  earth,  in  heaven,  or  sea, 
To  grasp  with  comprehensive  view, 
In  short,  to  master  all  the  round 
Of  science  and  of  nature  too. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You're  on  the  right  track ;  only  don't 
Get  scatter-brained  in  the  pursuit. 

STUDENT. 

Oh,  never  fear,  sir  ;  —  that  I  won't. 
Body  and  soul  I'll  buckle  to't. 
Yet  should  I  like  upon  occasion 
Some  freedom,  some  small  relaxation, 


86  FAUST 

When  skies  are  bright,  and  fields  are  gay, 
Upon  a  summer's  holiday. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Use  well  your  time,  —  so  fast  it  flies ; 

Yet  Method  teaches,  in  what  wise 

Of  time  itself  you  may  make  prize. 

And,  first  and  foremost  to  that  end, 

I  counsel  you,  my  dear  young  friend, 

A  course  of  Logic  to  attend. 

Your  mind  will  then  be  so  well  braced, 

In  Spanish  boots  so  tightly  laced, 

That  henceforth,  by  discretion  taught, 

'Twill  creep  along  the  path  of  thought, 

And  not,  with  all  the  winds  that  blow, 

Go  Will-o'-Wisping  to  and  fro. 

Then  many  a  good  day  will  be  spent 

In  teaching  that  the  things  you  used 

To  knock  off  at  a  stroke,  with  just 

As  little  thought  or  pains  as  went 

To  eating  or  to  drinking,  must 

Be  by  First !     Second  !     Third  !     produced. 

The  web  of  thought,  we  may  assume, 

Is  like  some  triumph  of  the  loom, 

Where  one  small  simple  treddle  starts 

A  thousand  threads  to  motion,  —  where 

The  flying  shuttle  shoots  and  darts, 

Now  over  here,  now  under  there. 

We  look,  but  see  not  how,  so  fast 

Thread  blends  with  thread,  and  twines,  and  mixes, 

When  lo !  one  single  stroke  at  last 

The  thousand  combinations  fixes  ; 

In  steps  me  then  Philosophy,  and  proves 

That,  being  set  in  certain  grooves, 

Things  which  have  passed  before  your  eyes 

Could  by  no  chance  be  otherwise. 


FAUST  87 

The  First  was  so,  the  Second  so, 

Ergo  the  Third  and  Fourth  ensued ; 

But  given  no  First  nor  Second,  no 

Third,  yea,  nor  Fourth  had  been  or  could. 

Scholars  in  matters  of  this  kind 

Are  everywhere  profound  believers, 

Yet  none  of  them,  that  I  can  find, 

Have  signalised  themselves  as  weavers. 

He  that  would  study  and  portray 

A  living  creature,  thinks  it  fit 

To  start  with  finding  out  the  way 

To  drive  the  spirit  out  of  it. 

This  done,  he  holds  within  his  hand 

The  pieces  to  be  named  and  stated, 

But,  ah !  the  spirit-tie,  that  spanned 

And  knit  them,  has  evaporated. 

This  process  chemic  science  pleases 

To  call  Naturae  Encheiresis, 

And,  in  the  very  doing  so,  it 

Makes  of  itself  a  mock,  and  does  not  know  it. 


STUDENT. 

I  don't  entirely  comprehend. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  that  respect  you'll  quickly  mend, 
When  once  you  learn  with  true  insight 
To  classify  all  things  aright. 

STUDENT. 

I'm  so  perplexed  with  what  you've  said, 
That  just  for  all  the  world  I  feel 
As  if  some  clattering  mill-wheel 
Were  turning,  turning  in  my  head. 


88  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Before  all  other  studies  you 
Must  Metaphysics  next  pursue. 
There  see  that  you  profoundly  scan 
What  ne'er  was  meant  for  brain  of  man ; 
Be  thought  or  no  thought  in  your  head, 
Fine  phrases  there  will  do  instead  : 
And  mind,  that  this  half-year  in  all 
You  do  you're  most  methodical. 
Five  hours  of  lecture  daily  ;  so 
Be  in  your  seat  right  to  the  minute ! 
Prepare  the  subject  ere  you  go, 
Be  thoroughly  well  read  up  in  it. 
Thus  see  that  the  professor's  stating 
No  more  than  all  the  text-books  show ; 
Yet  still  write  down  each  word,  as  though 
He  were  the  Holy  Ghost  dictating. 

STUDENT. 

No  need  to  say  that  to  me  twice. 

I  see  'tis  excellent  advice ; 

For  we  take  home,  and  study,  quite 

At  ease,  what's  down  in  black  and  white. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  choose  some  Faculty. 

STUDENT. 

At  the  mere  name 
Of  Jurisprudence  I  rebel. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  that,  I  own,  you're  not  so  much  to  blame, 
For  what  that  science  is,  I  know  full  well. 


FAUST  89 

Laws  are  transmitted,  as  one  sees, 

Just  like  inherited  disease. 

They're  handed  down  from  race  to  race, 

And  noiseless  glide  from  place  to  place. 

Keason  they  turn  to  nonsense  ;  worse, 

They  make  beneficence  a  curse  ! 

Ah  me !     That  you're  a  grandson  you, 

As  long  as  you're  alive,  shall  rue. 

The  law  which  is  within  us  placed 

At  birth,  unhappily  about 

That  law  there's  never  any  doubt. 

STUDENT. 

Your  words  have  heightened  my  distaste. 
Oh,  the  fortunate  man  whom  you 
Vouchsafe  to  give  instruction  to ! 
I  almost  think  Theology 
Would  be  the  study  best  for  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  should  not  wish,  friend,  to  mislead  you ; 
Yet  in  that  branch  of  lore,  indeed,  you 

Will  find  it  hard  to  keep  away 

From  paths  that  carry  far  astray. 

In  it  so  much  hid  poison  lies 

Which  you  may  fail  to  recognise, 

Nay,  will  most  probably  confound 

With  the  true  medicine  around. 

But  here  again  one  rule  is  clear  ; 

To  one,  and  but  one  guide,  give  ear, 

Take  all  his  words  as  gospel  in, 

And  swear  by  them  through  thick  and  thin. 

As  a  broad  principle,  hold  on 

By  words,  words,  words !     So  you,  anon, 

Through  their  unfailing  doors  the  fane 

Of  perfect  certainty  will  gain. 


go  FAUST 

STUDENT. 

But  surely,  sir,  a  meaning  should 
In  words  be  always  understood  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No  doubt,  no  doubt !     Yet  'twere  absurd 

Upon  that  point  to  feel  too  much  concern ; 

Since  just  where  meaning  fails,  a  word 

Comes  patly  in  to  serve  your  turn. 

Words,  my  young  friend,  —  why,  nothing  suits 

So  well  as  matter  for  disputes ; 

With  words  your  systems  you  can  weave  in, 

Words  are  such  fine  things  to  believe  in, 

And  from  a  word  no  jot  or  tittle 

Can  be  abstracted,  much  or  little. 

STUDENT. 

I  fear  my  numerous  questions  tease  you ; 
Yet  once  more  I  must  trouble  you. 
On  Medicine  I  would  fain,  so  please  you, 
Receive  a  pregnant  word  or  two. 
Three  years,  they  slip  away  so  fast, 
And,  heavens !  the  field  is  quite  too  vast. 
Still  with  a  hint  a  man  may  hope 
His  way  with  more  success  to  grope. 

mephistopheles  {aside). 

This  prosing  bores  me.     I  must  play 
The  devil  now  in  my  own  way. 
{Aloud)     Well,  any  simpleton  may  seize 
The  soul  of  Medicine  with  ease  — 
You  simply  study  through  and  through 
The  world  of  man  and  nature  too, 
To  end  with  leaving  things  to  God, 
To  make  or  mar  them.     'Tis  in  vain 


FAUST  91 

That  you  go  mooning  all  abroad, 
Picking  up  science  grain  by  grain : 
Each  man  learns  only  what  he  can. 
But  he  that  has  the  gift  and  power 
To  profit  by  the  passing  hour, 
He  is  your  proper  man  ! 
You're  not  ill  built,  —  will,  I  conceive, 
Show  mettle  on  occasion  due ;  — 
If  you  but  in  yourself  believe, 
Others  will  then  believe  in  you. 
Especially  be  sure  to  find 
The  way  to  manage  the  womenkind. 
Their  everlasting  Ohs  !  and  Ahs  ! 
Of  this  be  sure, 

Whate'er  their  fashion  or  their  cause, 
All  from  one  point  admit  of  cure. 
With  air  respectful  and  demure 
Approach  as  they  advance,  and,  mum ! 
You  have  them  all  beneath  your  thumb. 
But  a  degree  must  first  instil 
Conviction  in  them,  that  your  skill 
Surpasses  other  people's  ;  then 
At  once  they  make  you  free  of  all 
Those  tete-a-tete  endearments  small, 
Years  scarce  secure  for  other  men : 
The  little  pulse  adroitly  squeeze, 
With  looks  on  fire  with  passion  seize 
And  boldly  clasp  the  tapering  waist, 
To  see  if  it  be  tightly  laced. 

STUDENT. 

Oh,  that  is  much  more  in  my  way ! 
One  sees  at  least  the  where  and  how. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Dear  friend,  all  theory  is  gray, 
And  green  life's  golden  tree. 


92  FAUST 

STUDENT. 


I  VOW, 


I'm  like  one  in  a  dream.     Might  I 

Intrude  on  you  some  other  time,  to  hear 

Your  wisdom  make  the  grounds  of  all  this  clear  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

So  far  as  I  can  serve  you,  I  will  try. 

STUDENT. 

I  cannot  tear  myself  away, 

Let  me  before  you,  sir,  my  album  lay ; 

Some  small  memorial  of  your  favour,  pray  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

With  all  my  heart.     [  Writes  and  returns  the  book. 

student  (reads). 

Eritis  sicut  Deus,  scientes  bonum  et  malum. 

[Closes  it  reverentially,  and  retires. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Take  for  your  law  the  ancient  saw,  and  that  cousin  of 

mine,  the  snake. 
And,  with  that  likeness  of  yours  to  God,  your  heart 

is  like  to  break. 

faust  (entering). 
And  now  where  shall  we  go  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You've  but  to  name 
What  place  you  choose,  —  to  me  'tis  quite  the  same. 


FAUST  93 

Suppose  we  see  the  small  folk  first, 
And  then  upon  the  great  ones  burst. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit,  too, 
You'll  revel  the  pleasant  circuit  through ! 

FAUST. 

But  with  my  long  beard  can  I  face 
Society  ?     I  want  the  grace, 
The  easy,  smooth,  and  polished  air, 
That  of  a  man's  expected  there. 
Nor  could  I  learn  it,  if  I  would. 
Adapt  myself  I  never  could 
To  what  the  world  demands  of  all. 
And  in  a  crowd  I  feel  so  small, 
'Tis  certain  I  shall  always  be 
Embarrassed  when  in  company. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

All  that  will  come  in  time.     Be  self-possessed ! 
In  that  one  word  is  life's  whole  art  expressed. 

FAUST. 

But  how  are  we  to  travel  ?     Where 
Are  horses,  servants,  carriage,  pray  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

This  cloak  out  so  we've  but  to  lay, 
And  'twill  transport  us  through  the  air. 
In  this  bold  trip  no  need  to  cumber 
Yourself  with  luggage  and  such  lumber. 
A  little  gas,  which  I've  at  hand, 
Will  waft  us  straight  o'er  sea  and  land, 
And,  as  we  travel  lightly,  too, 
On  at  a  rattling  pace  we'll  spin. 


94  FAUST 

I  wish  you  joy,  friend,  of  the  new 
Career  of  life  you  now  begin. 


Scene  II.  —  Auerbach's   Cellar  at  Leipzig. 
A  Drinking  Party  of  Boon   Companions. 

FKOSCH. 

Will  nobody  drink  ?     Is  there  never  a  joke 

Among  you,  or  bit  of  fun  to  poke  ? 

At  other  times  you  can  blaze  away ; 

But  egad  !  you're  all  like  damp  straw  to-day. 

BRANDER. 

Your  fault !     You  do  nothing  to  make  us  jolly, 
No  beastliness,  no  stupid  folly. 

FROSCH  (flings  a  glass  of  wine  at  his  head). 
There's  both  for  you  ! 

BRANDER. 

Brute  !     Beast ! 

FROSCH. 

You  sought  it, 
My  lad  of  wax,  and  now  you've  caught  it ! 

SIEBEL. 

Any  fellow  that  quarrels,  kick  him  out ! 
Come,  clear  your  throats,  boys,  swill  and  shout. 
Hip,  hip,  huzza ! 

ALTMAYER. 

I'm  lost !     Oh  dear  ! 
Some  cotton  !     This  rowdy  splits  my  ear  ! 


FAUST  95 


SIEBEL. 


Until  the  vaults  with  the  echo  reel, 
The  strength  of  the  bass  you  never  feel. 

FROSCH. 

Eight !     Those  that  don't  like  it  needn't  stay  ! 
Ah,  tara,  lara,  da  ! 

ALTMAYER. 

Ah,  tara,  lara,  da  ! 

FROSCH. 

Our  throats  are  tuned  up,  so  fire  away  ! 

(Sings.) 

The  dear  old  Eoman  Empire,  how 
Does  it  manage  to  hang  together  ? 

BRANDER. 

A  filthy  song !     A  political  song  !     Fie,  fie  ! 

A  most  offensive  song,  say  I. 

Thank  God  each  morning  you  have  not 

To  care  for  that  same  Roman  Empire  got. 

I  hold  it  a  thing  to  be  grateful  for, 

That  I'm  neither  Kaiser  nor  Chancellor. 

Still,  we  should  have  a  chief,  and  may,  I  hope. 

We  will,  we  shall,  we  must  elect  a  Pope  ! 

I  need  not  tell  you,  for  you're  all  aware, 

What  qualities  weigh  heaviest  there, 

And  lift  a  man  into  the  chair. 

FROSCH  (sings). 

Fly  away,  fly  away,  Lady  Nightingale, 
Over  the  mountain,  and  over  the  dale ! 


96  FAUST 

Fly  to  my  sweetheart  out  over  the  sea, 
And  greet  her  a  thousand  times  from  me. 


SIEBEL. 

No  greetings,  ho,  to  sweetings !     Tis  exceedingly  im- 
proper ! 

FROSCH. 

I  will  greet  her,  kiss  her,  treat  her  !     You  sha'n't  put 
on  me  a  stopper. 

(Sings.) 

Undo  the  bolts  at  dead  of  night, 
And  let  the  lad  that  loves  you  in, 
But  in  the  gray  of  the  morning  light 
Bar  him  without,  and  yourself  within ! 

SIEBEL. 

Sing  on !     Our  ears  with  her  perfections  din  ! 

My  time  will  come  to  laugh,  when  you  look  blue. 

She  led  me  a  fool's  dance,  and  so  she  will  lead  you. 

I'd  give  her  for  a  lover  a  hobgoblin, 

To  toy  with  her  on  crossroads  in  the  dark ; 

An  old  buck-goat,  back  from  the  Blocksberg  hobbling, 

Might  tickle  her  up  in  passing  for  a  lark ! 

The  blood  and  bone  of  any  stout  young  blade 

Are  much  too  good  for  such  an  arrant  jade. 

No,  no,  the  only  greeting  I  will  hear  of 

Is  smashing  all  the  gipsy's  windows  clear  off. 

BRANDER  (striking  the  table). 

Silence  !     Silence  !     To  me  give  ear  ! 
You'll  admit  that  I  know  what's  what. 
We  have  some  love-sick  spoonies  here, 
And  I  must  treat  them  to  something  pat, 


FAUST  97 

And  like  to  enliven  their  doleful  cheer. 
Of  the  very  last  fashion  is  my  strain. 
Full  chorus,  mind,  for  the  refrain ! 

(Sings.) 

Once  in  a  cellar  there  lived  a  rat, 

His  paunch  it  grew  a  thumper, 
For  he  lived  on  nothing  but  butter  and  fat, 

Not  Luther's  self  was  plumper. 
The  cook  laid  poison  for  him  one  day, 
And  he  fell  into  a  terrible  way, 

As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him ! 

CHORUS. 

As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him  ! 

And  he  ran  out,  and  round  about, 

And  he  could  not  think  what  ailed  him, 

And  he  scratched,  and  clawed,  and  nibbled,  and  gnawed, 
But  his  fury  nought  availed  him ; 

He  felt  the  pain  shoot  from  head  to  foot, 

'Twas  soon  all  up  with  him,  poor  brute, 
As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him  ! 

CHORUS. 

As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him  ! 

In  pain,  in  dismay,  in  broad  noonday, 

He  dashed  into  the  kitchen, 
Fell  down  on  the  hearth,  and  there  he  lay, 

Convulsed  with  a  woful  twitching ; 
But  the  cook  she  laughed,  when  his  pain  she  spied, 
"  Ha !  ha  !     He's  at  his  last  gasp  ! "  she  cried, 

As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him  ! 


98  FAUST 

CHOKUS. 
As  if  love's  tortures  twinged  him  ! 

SIEBEL. 

How  easy  it  is  to  tickle  flats ! 
To  lay  down  poison  for  poor  rats 
Is  wit  of  such  a  spicy  flavour ! 

BRANDER. 

No  doubt  they  stand  high  in  your  favour. 

ALTMAYER. 

Fatguts  is  down  in  his  luck,  —  'tis  that 
Makes  him  soft-hearted  and  dejected ; 
Poor  devil,  he  sees  in  the  bloated  rat 
The  image  of  himself  reflected. 

Enter  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Before  all  things  I  must  bring  you  to 
A  circle  of  jolly  dogs,  that  you 
May  see  how  lightly  life  can  sit. 
Every  day  is  a  feast  with  such 
Hard-drinking  fellows  as  these.     With  much 
Self-satisfaction  and  little  wit, 
Day  after  day,  they  may  all  be  found, 
Spinning  along  the  same  narrow  round, 
Like  a  young  kitten  pursuing  its  tail. 
So  long  as  their  heads  don't  ache  or  ail, 
And  with  mine  host  they  can  score  their  way, 
No  care  or  misgiving  at  all  have  they. 


FAUST  99 


BRANDEK. ' 


Strangers,  and  just  arrived,  that's  clear, 
Their  cut  and  deportment  are  so  queer ! 
Not  been  an  hour  in  town,  I'll  swear. 


FROSCH. 

For  once  you're  right,  old  fellow,  there. 
Leipzig  for  ever  !     Tis  Paris  in  small ! 
It  gives  us  a  style,  sir,  a  style  to  us  all. 

SIEBEL. 

For  what  do  you  these  strangers  take  ? 

FROSCH. 

Just  leave  them  to  me.     In  a  brace  of  shakes 
Out  of  these  fellows  I'll  worm  the  truth, 
As  easy  as  draw  you  a  young  child's  tooth. 
Noblemen  I  should  say  they  were, 
They've  such  a  haughty  dissatisfied  air. 

BRANDER. 

Mountebanks !     That's  about  their  level ! 

ALTMAYER. 

Perhaps ! 

FROSCH. 

I'll  trot  them.     Pray  you,  note  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to    FAUST). 

These  scum  would  never  surmise  the  devil, 
Although  he  had  them  by  the  throat ! 


ioo  FAUST 

FAUST. 
Your  servant,  sirs ! 

SIEBEL. 

The  same  to  you ! 
[Aside,  looking  askance  at  MEPHISTOPHELES. 
Limps  on  one  foot  ?     So  queerly,  too ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Beside  you  have  we  leave  our  chairs  to  set  ? 

Instead  of  good  drink,  then,  which  here  we  cannot  get, 

We  shall  have  your  good  company  for  cheer. 

ALTMAYER. 

You're  mighty  hard  to  please,  it  would  appear ! 

FROSCH. 

Just  fresh  from  Rippach,  ain't  you  ?     I  daresay, 
You  supped,  now,  with  Squire  Hans,  upon  the  way  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

To-day  we  galloped  past  his  door ; 

But  had  much  talk  with  him,  the  time  before, 

About  his  cousins  here ;  and  he  presents 

To  each  of  you  through  us  his  special  compliments. 

[Bowing  toward  Frosch. 

altmayer  (aside). 
That's  home  !     A  knowing  dog  ! 


SIEBEL. 


A  biting  wit ! 


FAUST  101 

FROSCH. 

I'll  serve  him  out,  you'll  see.     Just  wait  a  bit ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Did  we  not  hear  —  I  can't  be  wrong  — 
Well-practised  voices  chanting  chorus  ? 
No  doubt  the  vaulted  ceiling  o'er  us 
Must  echo  rarely  to  a  song. 

FROSCH. 

You  are  a  connoisseur  of  some  pretence  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  no!     My  powers  are  weak,  my  love  immense. 

ALTMAYER. 

Tip  us  a  stave  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  score,  if  you  incline. 

SIEBEL. 

Brand  new,  then,  let  it  be,  some  jolly  strain ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  have  quite  recently  returned  from  Spain, 
That  beauteous  land  of  song  and  wine. 

(Sings.) 

A  king  there  was,  be't  noted, 
Who  had  a  lusty  flea. 


102  FAUST 

FEOSCH. 

Mark  him,  a  flea !     You  take  the  jest  ? 
Now,  by  my  faith,  a  royal  guest ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (sings). 

A  king  there  was,  be't  noted, 

Who  had  a  lusty  flea, 
And  on  this  flea  he  doted, 

And  loved  him  tenderly. 
A  message  to  the  tailor  goes, 

Swift  came  the  man  of  stitches , 
"  Ho,  measure  the  youngster  here  for  clothes, 

And  measure  him  for  breeches  ! " 

BRANDER. 

Mind  you  impress  on  Snip  to  take 
Especial  care  about  the  fit, 
And,  as  he  loves  his  head,  to  make 
The  breeches  without  wrinkles  sit. 

mephistopheles  (resumes  his  song). 

In  silk  and  satin  of  the  best 

Soon  was  the  flea  arrayed  there, 
Eibbons  had  he  upon  his  breast, 

Likewise  a  star  displayed  there ; 
Prime  minister  anon  he  grew, 

With  star  of  huge  dimensions, 
And  his  kindred,  male  and  female  too, 

Got  titles,  rank,  and  pensions. 

And  lords  and  ladies,  high  and  fair, 

Were  grievously  tormented ; 
Sore  bitten  the  queen  and  her  maidens  were, 

But  they  did  not  dare  resent  it. 


FAUST  103 


They  even  were  afraid  to  scratch, 

Howe'er  our  friends  might  rack  them, 

But  we  without  a  scruple  catch, 

And  when  we  catch  we  crack  them. 


CHORUS. 

But  we  without  a  scruple  catch, 

And  when  we  catch,  we  crack  them. 

FROSCH. 

Bravo !     First-rate ! 

SIEBEL. 

So  perish  all 
The  race  of  fleas,  both  great  and  small. 

BRANDER. 

Catch  me  them  daintily  on  the  hip 


Between  the  nail  and  the  finger-tip 


1 


ALTMAYER. 

Huzza  for  freedom  !     Huzza  for  wine  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

To  pledge  a  bumper  glass  to  freedom,  I'd  be  glad, 
Were  not  this  wine  of  yours  so  execrably  bad. 

SIEBEL. 

Let's  hear  no  more  of  that,  Sir  Superfine  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  that  our  host  were  apt  to  be  offended, 

I'd  give  these  worthy  fellows  here 

From  our  own  cellar  something  splendid  ! 


104  FAUST 

SIEBEL. 

I'll  make  that  square,  so  never  fear. 

FROSCH. 

Make  good  your  words,  and  you're  a  trump.      The 

sample 
I  charge  you,  though,  to  make  it  ample, 
For,  if  I  have  to  judge  of  tipple,  I 
Must  have  a  good  mouthful  to  judge  it  by. 

altmayer  (aside). 
Soho  !     They're  from  the  Pdiine,  I  see. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  gimlet  here  ? 

BRANDER. 

For  what,  now,  can  that  be  ? 
You  can't  have  got  the  hogsheads  at  the  door  ? 

ALTMAYER. 

The  landlord's  tool-chest's  yonder  on  the  floor. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (taking  the  gimlet,  to  FROSCH). 
Now  say  for  which  you  have  a  mind. 

FROSCH. 

What !     Have  you  them  of  every  kind  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Name  each  his  choice,  strong,  sparkling,  old,  or  heady. 


FAUST  105 

ALTMAYEK  (to  FKOSCH). 

Aha  !  your  lips  are  watering  already. 

FEOSCH. 

Let  it  be  Rhenish,  if  I  may  command. 
For  best  of  cheer  I'll  back  old  Fatherland. 

mephistopheles  (boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of  the  table 
where  frosch  is  sitting). 

A  little  wax  to  stop  the  hole !     Quick,  quick  ! 

ALTMAYER  (to  FROSCH). 

Pshaw,  this  is  palpably  a  juggler's  trick ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  BRANDER). 

And  you  ? 

BRANDER. 

Champagne,  champagne  for  me, 
Creaming  and  sparkling  cheerily ! 

[Mephistopheles  lores;  meanwhile  one  of  the 
party  has  made  stoppers  of  wax,  and  stopped 
the  holes. 

BRANDER. 

One  can't  always  put  foreign  gear  aside  ; 

For  good  things  we  have  often  far  to  go. 

French  men  no  real  German  can  abide, 

He  drinks  their  wines  without  a  scruple,  though. 

siebel  (as  mephistopheles  approaches  him). 

The  sour,  I  own,  I  can't  away  with. 
Pure  sweet,  I'd  like  a  glass  of  that. 


106     ,  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (bores). 

You  shall,  sir,  have  Tokay  to  play  with. 

ALTMAYER. 

No,  no,  sir,  no  !     I  tell  you  what : 
You're  making  game,  you  are,  of  us. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  were  somewhat  too  venturous 
With  men  of  mark  like  you.     You  doubt  it  ? 
Quick  !     Tell  me  without  more  ado 
What  wine  I  am  to  serve  for  you  ? 

ALTMAYER. 

Any  !     So  that  you  don't  stand  haggling  long  about  it ! 
[After  all  the  holes  have  been  bored,  and  stoppers 
put  into  them. 

mephistopheles  (with  strange  gestures). 

Wine-grapes  of  the  vine  are  born, 
Front  of  he-goat  sprouts  with  horn, 
Wine  is  juice,  and  vine-stocks  wood, 
Wooden  board  yields  wine  as  good  ! 
Here  is  truth  for  him  that  sees 
Into  nature's  mysteries ; 
Miracles  when  you  receive, 
You  have  only  to  believe ! 

Now  draw  your  stoppers,  and  fall  to  ! 

ALL  (as  they  draw  the  stoppers,  and  the  wine  each  has 
selected  runs  into  his  glass). 

Oh,  fountain,  beautiful  to  view ! 


FAUST  107 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Be  very  careful.      Drink  your  fill, 
But  see  that  not  a  drop  you  spill ! 

\_Tliey  drink  repeatedly. 

ALL  (sing). 

As  savagely  jolly  are  we, 

As  any  five  hundred  porkers  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  sots  from  all  restraint  are  freed, 
And  so  are  blest,  and  blest  indeed. 

FAUST. 

I'm  sick  of  this,  and  would  be  gone. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Only  a  little  moment  stay  ; 

You'll  see  a  glorious  display 

Of  what  mere  beasts  they  are,  anon. 

SIEBEL  (drinks  carelessly  ;  wine  is  spilt  on  the  ground 
and  turns  into  jiame). 

Help !     Hell's  broke  loose  !     We  all  are  shent ! 

mephistopheles  (adjuring  the  flame'). 

Be  quiet,  kindly  element !  [To  the  topers. 

This  time  'twas  nothing  but  a  tiny  spark 
Of  purgatorial  fire,  not  worth  remark ! 

SIEBEL. 

Just  wait,  and  your  cock's  comb  I'll  mar. 
You  do  not  know,  it  strikes  me,  who  we  are. 


108  FAUST 

> 

FROSCH. 

His  tricks  a  second  time  just  let  him  try. 

ALTMAYER. 

Let's  send  him  to  the  right-about,  say  I. 

SIEBEL. 

Confound  you,  coming  to  provoke  us 
With  playing  off  your  hocus-pocus ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Silence,  old  vat ! 

SIEBEL. 

You  broomstick,  you ! 
And  so  you'd  fain  be  saucy,  too  ? 

BRANDER. 

Wait,  and  I'll  thrash  you  black  and  blue. 

altmayer  {draws  a,  stopper  from  the  table ;  fire  shoots 

out  toward  hint). 

I  burn  !     I'm  all  on  fire  ! 

SIEBEL. 

The  wizard ! 
Down  with  him  !     Stick  him  through  the  gizzard  ! 

[They  draw   their   knives,  and  make   a   rush   at 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (with  solemn  gesticulations). 

Voices  that  delude  the  ear, 
Forms  that  mock  the  eye,  appear ! 


FAUST  109 

Let  the  distant  seem  the  near, 
Be  ye  there  and  be  ye  here ! 
\_TJiey  stand  amazed  and  stare  at  each  other. 


ALTMAYER. 

Where  am  I  ?     What  a  lovely  land  ! 

FROSCH. 

Vineyards !     How  strange  ! 

SIEBEL. 

And  grapes  that  court  the  hand ! 

BRANDER. 

Here,  under  these  green  leaves  by  me, 
See,  what  a  stem !     What  branches,  see  ! 

[Seizes  Siebel  by  the  nose.     The  rest  do  the  same 
with  each  other,  and  brandish  their  knives. 

mephistopheles  (as  before). 

Phantoms  of  delusion,  rise, 
Lift  the  bandage  from  their  eyes .' 
And  take  note,  ye  swinish  soaks, 
In  what  wise  the  devil  jokes ! 
[He  disappears  vrith  Faust.       The   topers  recoil 
from  one  another. 

SIEBEL. 

What's  this  ? 

ALTMAYER. 

How's  tins  ? 


no  FAUST 

FKOSCH. 
Was  that  your  nose  ? 

BRANDER  (to  SIEBEL). 

On  yours,  too,  see,  my  fingers  close ! 

ALTMAYER. 

It  sent  a  shock  through  all  my  limbs ! 
A  chair !     I'm  falling  !     My  head  swims ! 

FROSCH. 

What  ails  you  all  ? 

SIEBEL. 

Where  is  he  ?     Where  ? 
Let  me  but  catch  the  knave,  he  dies,  I  swear. 

ALTMAYER. 

Out  of  the  cellar-door,  astride 
A  huge  wine-tun,  I  saw  him  ride. 
I  feel  like  lead  about  the  feet. 

[Turning  toward  the  table. 
Zounds  !     Should  the  wine  be  running  yet ! 

SIEBEL. 

'Twas  all  a  sham,  a  trick,  a  cheat ! 

FROSCH. 

Yet,  that  it  was  wine,  I  would  bet. 

BRANDER. 

But  how  about  the  grapes  ? 


FAUST  i i I 

ALTMAYER. 


Well,  after  that, 
Doubt  miracles  who  may,  I  won't,  that's  flat. 


Scene  III. —  Witches'  Kitchen. 

large  caldron  suspended  above  the  fire  upon  a  low 
hearth.  Through  the  fumes  that  ascend  from  it 
various  figures  are  visible.  A  female  ape  sits  be- 
side the  caldron  skimming  it,  and  watching  that  it 
does  not  boil  over.  The  male  ape  with  the  young 
ones  sits  near  her,  and  warms  himself.  Walls  and 
ceiling  are  decorated  with  witches'  furniture  of  the 
most  fantastic  kind. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

faust. 

I  loathe  this  wizard  rubbish.     You  maintain 

That  in  this  chaos  of  a  crazy  brain 

I  shall  my  wasted  strength  repair  ? 

Take  counsel  of  an  aged  hag  ?     Oh,  shame ! 

Can  the  foul  mess  that  simmers  there 

Strike  thirty  winters  from  my  frame  ? 

If  you  know  nothing  better,  I  despair ! 

Already  do  I  feel,  to  hope  were  vain. 

Hath  nature,  hath  some  soul  of  noble  strain, 

Discovered  no  elixir  anywhere  ? 

mephistopheles. 

Now  with  your  old  sagacity  you  speak ! 
There  is  a  natural  recipe  for  youth ;  but  you 
For  that  must  in  another  volume  seek, 
And  there  it  makes  a  striking  chapter,  too ! 


H2  FAUST 

FAUST. 

What  is  its  nature  ?     Tell  me,  what  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Look  you !     A  remedy,  to  be  got 

Sans  sorcery,  gold,  or  medicine. 

Hence  to  the  fields  at  once !     Begin 

To  hack  and  delve  with  might  and  main, 

Yourself  and  your  desires  confine 

Within  the  very  narrowest  line  ; 

On  simple  food  yourself  sustain, 

With  beasts  live  as  a  beast,  and  think  it  not  a  bore 

Yourself  to  dung  the  field  you  are  to  reap. 

This,  trust  me,  is  the  best  of  ways  to  keep 

The  fire  of  youth  within  you  to  fourscore. 

FAUST. 

I  am  not  used  to  toil,  and  'tis  too  late  to  force 
Myself  to  wield  the  spade.     A  life  so  bare, 
So  cramped,  would  drive  me  to  despair. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Then  is  the  witch  our  sole  resource. 

FAUST. 

But  why  this  beldam  ?     Cannot  you 
Without  her  aid  the  potion  brew  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  were  fine  waste  of  time.     Go  to ! 
Eather  would  I  a  thousand  bridges  build, 
Within  the  time  'twould  take  to  brew  it. 
No  matter  how  you  may  be  skilled, 


FAUST  113 

You  must  give  tireless  patience  to  it. 
A  quiet  spirit  works  at  it  for  years ; 
Time,  only  time,  the  fermentation  clears, 
And  concentrates  its  subtle  force. 
All  the  ingredients  of  the  stew 
Are  wondrous  in  their  kind  and  source. 
The  devil  taught  the  witch,  'tis  true, 
But,  make  it,  that  he  cannot  do. 

[Turning  to  the  Apes. 
A  handsome  brood  as  ever  was  ! 
This  is  the  lad,  and  this  the  lass.        [To  the  Apes. 
The  dame  is  not  at  home,  it  seems  ? 


THE    APES. 

She  takes  her  'rouse 

Outside  the  house, 

Up  by  the  chimney  among  the  beams. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  how  long  is  she  apt  to  stay, 
When  she  is  out  for  such  a  cause  ? 


APES. 

We  just  have  time  to  warm  our  paws, 
And  nothing  more,  while  she's  away. 


MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  FAUST). 

How  like  you  them,  the  dainty  brutes  ? 

FAUST. 

Such  loathsome  creatures  have  I  never  seen. 


H4  FAUST 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


Nay,  nay  !     A  chat  like  this,  I  weeD, 

Is  just  the  thing  that  best  my  fancy  suits ! 

[To  the  Apes. 
Tell  me,  ye  whelps  accurst,  what  you 
Are  stirring  there  at  such  a  rate  ? 


APES. 

Coarse  beggar's  broth  we  boil  and  stew. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  custom  for  it  will  be  great. 
THE  HE  -  ape  (approaching  and  fawning  upon 

MEPHISTOPHELES). 

Tarry  not,  but  in  a  trice 

Shake  the  box,  and  fling  the  dice ! 

I  am  poor,  so  let  me  win ; 

Poverty  is  such  a  sin ; 

But,  if  money  once  I  had, 

Who  would  say  that  I  was  mad  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  happy,  now,  it  would  the  monkey  make, 
If  in  the  lottery  he  might  only  stake ! 

[TJie  young  Apes,  who  have  meanwhile  been  play- 
ing with  a  large  globe,  roll  it  forwards. 

THE   HE -APE. 

This  is  the  world, 
Evermore  twirled 
Eound  about,  round  about, 
Destined  to  bound  about ! 


FAUST  115 


Mounting  and  sinking, 
Like  crystal  clinking ; 
Smashing  like  winking 
Certain  to  follow ! 
All  within  hollow. 
Here  'tis  all  o'er  bright, 
Here  even  more  bright ! 
So  jolly  am  I ! 
Out  of  the  way, 
Old  boy  !     Touch  it  not ! 
You're  booked,  you  must  die ! 
'Tis  nothing  but  clay, 
And  that  goes  to  pot ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

For  what  is  the  sieve  here  ? 


HE  -  ape  {takes  it  down). 

Came  you  to  thieve  here, 
Straight  'twould  show  me  why  you  came. 
[Runs  to  the  She-Ape,  and  makes  her  look  through  it. 
Through  the  sieve  look,  look !     Dost  thou 
Recognise  the  thief,  and  now 
Art  afraid  to  name  his  name  ? 


mephistopheles  (approaches  the  fire). 
And  this  pot  ? 

the  apes  (male  and  female). 

The  crack-brained  sot, 
He  knows  not  the  pot, 
He  knows  not  the  kettle ! 


n6  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Unmannerly  brute ! 

THE    HE  -  APE. 

Look  ye  now,  put 

This  whisk  in  your  hand,  and  sit  down  on  the  settle. 
[Forces  Mephistopheles  to  sit  down. 

FAUST  (who  has,  meanwhile,  been  standing  before  a 
mirror,  now  advancing  toward,  and  now  retiring 
from,  if). 

What  form  divine  is  this,  that  seems  to  live 

Within  the  magic  glass  before  mine  eyes ! 

Oh,  love,  to  me  thy  swiftest  pinion  give, 

And  waft  me  to  the  region  where  she  lies ! 

Oh,  if  I  stir  beyond  this  spot,  and  dare 

Advance  to  scan  it  with  a  nearer  gaze, 

The  vision  fades  and  dies  as  in  a  haze. 

A  woman's  form  beyond  expression  fair ! 

Can  woman  be  so  fair  ?     Or  must  I  deem 

In  this  recumbent  form  I  see  revealed 

The  quintessence  of  all  that  heaven  can  yield  ? 

On  earth  can  aught  be  found  of  beauty  so  supreme  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Why,  when  a  God  works  hard  for  six  whole  days, 

And  when  his  task  is  over,  says,  "  Bravo  !  " 

That  he  should  turn  out  something  to  amaze, 

Is  nothing  more  than  natural,  you  know. 

Gaze  on  your  fill !     As  choice  a  treasure 

My  power  for  you  can  soon  provide ; 

And  happy  he  beyond  all  measure, 

Who  has  the  luck  to  bear  home  such  a  bride ! 

[Faust  continues  to  gaze  into  the  mirror.  Mephis- 
topheles, lounging  on  the  settle,  and  playing 
with  the  whisk,  continues. 


FAUST  1 1 7 

Here  like  a  king  upon  my  throne  I  sit, 

My  sceptre  here !     My  crown,  though,  where  is  it  ? 


THE  APES  (who  up  to  this  time  have  been  indulging  in 
all  sorts  of  fantastic  gambols,  bring  mephistoph- 
eles  a  crown  with  loud  acclamations). 

O,  deign,  with  a  flood 
Of  sweat  and  of  blood, 
The  crown  to  belime ! 
[They  handle  the  crown  awkwardly,  and  break  it 
into  two  pieces,  with  which  they  dance  round 
and  round. 

Tis  done  !     He  !     He ! 
We  speak  and  we  see, 
We  hear  and  we  rhyme. 

FAUST  (before  the  mirror). 
Woe's  me  !     As  though  I  should  go  mad,  I  feel ! 

mephistopheles  (pointing  to  the  Apes). 
Why,  even  my  head,  too,  begins  to  reel. 

THE    APES. 

And  if  we  make  a  lucky  hit, 
And  if  the  words  fall  in  and  fit, 
Thought's  begot,  and  with  the  jingle 
Seems  to  interweave  and  mingle. 

faust  (as  before). 

My  breast  is  all  on  fire !     Let  us  away  ! 
Even  now  'tis  for  my  peace  too  late. 


1 18  FAUST 

mephistopheles  (still  in  the  same  position). 

Well,  every  one  must  own  that  they 

Are  candid  poets,  at  any  rate. 

\The  caldron,  which  the  She-Ape  has  neglected  in 
the  interim,  begins  to  boil  over  ;  a  great  flame 
shoots  out  and  rushes  up  the  chimney.  TJie 
Witch  comes  shooting  down  the  chimney  with 
a  horrible  shriek. 

THE    WITCH. 

Au!     Au!     Au!     Au ! 

Confounded  beast !     Accursed  sow  ! 

Neglecting  the  caldron  and  singeing  your  dame,  you 

Beast  accursed,  I'll  brain  you,  I'll  lame  you ! 

[Espying  Faust  and  MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  do  I  see  here  ? 

Who  may  you  be  here  ? 

What  do  you  seek  here  ? 

How  did  you  sneak  here  ? 

May  fire-pangs  fierce 

Your  marrow  pierce ! 
[She  dips  the  skimming  ladle  into  the  caldron,  and 

sprinkles  flames  on  Faust,  Mephistopheles, 

and  the  Apes.     Tlie  Apes  whimper. 

mephistopheles  (inverting  the  vjhisk,  which  he  holds 
in  his  hand,  and  laying  about  with  it  among  the 
glasses  and  pots). 

To  smash  !     To  smash, 
With  all  your  trash  ! 
There  goes  your  stew, 
There  goes  your  glass  ! 
You  see,  we  too 
Our  jest  can  pass  ! 
You  carrion,  we 
Can  match  your  feat ! 


FAUST  1 19 

Good  time,  you  see, 

To  your  tune  we  beat ! 
[As  the  Witch  recoils  full  of  rage  and  amazement. 
Dost  thou  recognise  me  now  ? 
Scarecrow  !     Atomy  !     Dost  thou 
Eecognise  thy  lord  and  master  ? 
What  holds  my  hand,  that  I  should  not  blast  her  ? 
Her  and  her  monkey-sprites  together  ? 
Is  all  respect  within  thee  dead 
For  me  and  for  my  doublet  red  ? 
Dost  recognise  not  the  cock's  feather  ? 
Have  I  so  masked  my  face  ?     My  name 
Must  I  on  the  house-tops  proclaim  ? 

THE    WITCH. 

Master,  forgive  my  rough  salute  ! 

But  yet  I  see  no  cloven  foot : 

And  where  may  your  two  ravens  be  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

For  this  time  that  apology 

May  pass ;  for  'tis,  I  can't  forget, 

A  long  while  now  since  last  we  met. 

Besides,  the  march  of  intellect, 

Which  into  shape,  as  time  runs  on, 

Is  licking  all  the  world,  upon 

The  devil's  self  has  had  effect. 

The  northern  goblin  no  more  shocks  the  sense ; 

Horns,  tails,  and  claws  are  things  you  never  see : 

As  for  the  foot,  with  which  I  can't  dispense, 

That  with  society  might  injure  me ; 

And  therefore  I  for  many  years 

Have,  like  young  buckish  cavaliers, 

Among  the  upper  circles  gadded, 

With  calves  most  curiously  padded. 


120  FAUST 

THE  witch  (dancing). 

I  feel  as  if  I  were  mad  with  sheer 
Delight  to  see  once  more  Dan  Satan  here ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Woman,  that  name  offends  my  ear ! 

THE    WITCH. 

Wherefore  ?     What  wrong  has  it  done  you  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Tut! 
It  has  been  written  down,  for  many  a  day, 
With  other  things  that  men  call  fables ;  but 
No  whit  the  better  off  for  that  are  they. 
The  Wicked  One  they  certainly  ignore, 
But  Wicked  Ones  are  numerous  as  before. 
If  name  I  must  have,  call  me  Baron  !     That 
Will  do,  although  the  title's  somewhat  flat. 
A  squire  of  quite  as  high  degree 
Am  I,  as  any  squire  can  be. 
My  gentle  blood  you  doubt  not ;  there 
Is  the  escutcheon  that  I  bear. 

[Makes  an  obscene  gesture. 

the  witch  (laughs  immoderately). 

Ha !  ha !     That's  just  like  you  !     So  clever ! 
Always  the  same  mad  wag  as  ever. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  FAUST). 

Mark  this,  my  friend  !     Whate'er  the  hitch  is, 
This  is  the  way  to  deal  with  witches. 


FAUST  121 

THE   WITCH. 

Now,  gentlemen,  what  is't  you  seek  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  bumper  of  your  famous  brew. 
Your  oldest,  though,  I  must  bespeak ; 
Years  doubly  efficacious  make  it. 

THE    WITCH. 

Right  gladly  !     Here's  a  flask !     I  take  it 
Myself  at  times  in  little  sips  ; 
All  trace  of  stink  has  left  it,  too. 
I'll  give  it  cheerfully  to  you. 

[Aside  to  MEPHISTOPHELES. 
But  him  there,  if  it  touch  his  lips, 
Unless  he's  seasoned  'gainst  its  power, 
You  know,  he  cannot  live  an  hour. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  he  is  an  especial  friend, 

'Tis  just  the  thing  to  serve  his  end. 

The  best  your  kitchen  can  produce 

I  do  not  grudge  him  for  his  use. 

So  draw  your  circle,  and  unroll 

Your  spells,  and  hand  him  out  a  brimming  bowl ! 

[The  Witch,  with  weird  gestures,  draws  a  circle, 
and  places  marvellous  things  within  it ;  mean- 
while the  glasses  begin  to  ring,  the  caldron  to 
sound  and  make  music.  Last  of  all  she 
fetches  a  great  hook,  places  the  Apes  within 
the  circle,  where  she  makes  them  serve  as  a 
reading-desk,  and  hold  the  torches.  She  beck- 
ons Faust  to  approach. 


122  FAUST 

FAUST    (to  MEPHISTOPHELES). 

What  is  all  this  to  end  in,  say  ? 
These  mad  paraphernalia, 
These  gestures  and  distortions  frantic, 
This  mess  of  juggle  and  of  antic, 
I  know  them  all  too  well  of  old, 
And  in  profound  aversion  hold. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

All  humbug  !  stuff  to  laugh  at  merely  ! 

But  do  not  take  things  too  severely ! 

Being  a  doctor  in  her  way, 

She  must  some  hocus-pocus  play, 

In  order  that  on  you  her  juice 

May  the  desired  effect  produce. 

[He  forces  Faust  to  enter  the  circle. 

THE  witch  (with  great  emphasis  declaims  from 

her  book). 

This  must  ye  ken  ! 

From  one  make  ten, 

Drop  two,  and  then 

Make  three  square,  which 

Will  make  you  rich  ; 

Skip  o'er  the  four  ! 

From  five  and  six,  — 

In  that  the  trick's,  — 

Make  seven  and  eight, 

And  all  is  straight ; 

And  nine  is  one, 

And  ten  is  none. 

This  is  the  witch's  One  Time's  One ! 

FAUST. 

The  beldam's  babble  seems  as  it 
Were  ravings  of  a  fever  fit. 


FAUST  123 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


Oh,  there's  a  deal  more  yet  to  follow, 

And  just  as  solid,  and  as  hollow ; 

The  whole  book  clinks  the  self-same  chime. 

I  know  it  well ;  and  much  good  time 

Have  I  lost  o'er  it,  good  and  serious. 

For  downright  contradiction  pulls 

As  hard  on  wise  men's  brains,  as  fools' ! 

And  unto  both  remains  alike  mysterious. 

The  trick's  both  old  and  new.     The  way 

At  all  times  was,  as  'tis  to-day, 

By  three  and  one,  and  one  and  three, 

To  preach  up  lies  as  simple  sooth, 

And  sow  broadcast  by  land  and  sea 

Delusions  in  the  place  of  truth. 

So  men  talk  on  the  nonsense  they 

Have  ground  into  them  in  the  schools; 

And  no  one  cares  to  say  them  nay, 

For  who'd  perplex  himself  with  fools  ? 

Men,  for  the  most  part,  when  they  hear 

Words  smite  with  vigour  on  their  ear, 

Believe  that  thought  an  entrance  finds 

Into  the  things  they  call  their  minds. 

the  witch  (continues). 

Science  is  light ! 

But  from  the  sight 

Of  all  the  world  'tis  hidden. 

Who  seeks  it  not, 

To  him  'tis  brought, 

Unnoticed  and  unbidden. 


FAUST. 

What  is  this  nonsense  she  is  spouting  ? 
My  head  will  split  anon.     I  seem  to  hear 


124  FAUST 

A  hundred  thousand  maniacs  shouting 
Their  lunacies'  full  chorus  in  mine  ear. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Enough  !     Enough  !  most  admirable  Sybil ! 
Dispense  thy  drink,  and,  mind,  no  paltry  dribble ! 
Fill  up  the  cup,  ay,  fill  it  to  the  brim ! 
My  friend  is  safe,  'twill  do  no  harm  to  him. 
He's  taken  honours  'mongst  us,  ay,  and  quaffed 
Full  many  a  deep  and  most  potential  draught. 

THE  witch  (with  many  ceremonies  pours  the  drink  into 
a  goblet.  As  faust  raises  it  to  his  lips,  a  film  of 
fiame  shoots  out  from  it). 

Off  with  it !     Leave  no  drop  above  ! 
'Twill  warm  the  cockles  of  your  heart ! 
What !  with  the  devil  hand  and  glove, 
And  yet  at  flame  recoil  and  start  ? 

[The  Witch  dissolves  the  circle.     Faust  steps  out. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Now,  forth  at  once  !     To  rest  would  mar  all  quite ! 

THE    WITCH. 

Your  little  drop  will  do  you  good,  I  trust. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  the  WITCH). 

And,  if  in  aught  I  can  oblige  you,  just 
Remind  me  of  it  on  Walpurgis  Night. 

THE    WITCH. 

Here  is  a  song  !    If  you  at  times 
Will  sing  it,  you  will  find  the  rhymes 


"My  pretty  laeiv,  permit  me.  Jo. 
My  escort  and  arm  to  offer  you!' 

re  after  the  painting  by  A.  Liezen  Meyer 


FAUST  i?S 

Produce  upon  you  an  effect 
More  singular  than  you  expect. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {to  FAUST). 

Come  !     Come  !     Be  guided  for  your  good  ! 

Tis  indispensable  you  should 

Perspire,  that  so  its  influence  may 

Through  all  your  vitals  find  its  way. 

Hereafter  I  will  teach  you  how  to  prize 

That  prime  distinction  of  noblesse, 

Sheer  lounging,  listless  idleness  ; 

And  soon  you'll  feel,  with  sweet  surprise, 

How  Cupid  gambols  in  the  breast, 

And  flits  and  flutters  there  with  exquisite  unrest. 

FAUST. 

One  glance  into  the  mirror  there ! 
That  woman's  form  was  all  too  fair ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Nay,  nay  !     Thou  shalt  ere  long  behold 

The  paragon  of  womankind, 

In  feature  perfect,  and  in  mould 

Warm,  living,  ay,  and  loving  to  your  mind.     [Aside. 

With  this  draught  in  his  body,  he 

In  every  wench  a  Helena  will  see. 


Scene  IV.  —  Street. 
Faust,  Margaret  {passing  along). 

FAUST. 


My  pretty  lady,  permit  me,  do, 
My  escort  and  arm  to  offer  you ! 


126  FAUST 


MARGARET. 


I'm  neither  a  lady,  nor  pretty,  and  so 
Can  home  without  an  escort  go. 

[Breaks  away  from  him  and  exit. 

FAUST. 

By  heaven,  this  girl  is  lovely  !     Ne'er 
Have  I  seen  anything  so  fair. 
She  is  so  pure,  so  void  of  guile, 
Yet  something  snappish,  too,  the  while. 
Her  lips'  rich  red,  her  cheeks'  soft  bloom, 
Will  haunt  me  to  the  day  of  doom ' 
The  pretty  way  she  droops  her  eyes 
Has  thrilled  my  heart  in  wondrous  wise ; 
Her  short  sharp  manner,  half  in  fright, 
'Twas  charming,  fascinating  quite  ! 

(To  Mephistopheles,  who  enters.) 
Hark,  you  must  get  that  girl  for  me ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Get  you  that  girl  ?     Which  do  you  mean  ? 

FAUST. 

She  that  went  by  but  now. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What!     She? 
She  has  to  her  confessor  been, 
Who  gave  her  —  he  could  scarce  do  less  — 
Full  absolution  ;  I  was  there, 
Lying  ensconced  behind  his  chair. 
Though  she  had  nothing  to  confess, 
Nothing  whatever,  to  him  she  went, 
Poor  thing,  she  is  so  innocent. 
Over  that  girl  I  have  no  power. 


FAUST  127 

FAUST. 

Yet  is  she  fourteen,  every  hour. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Spoken  like  Sir  Rake,  who  would  make  prize 
Of  every  dainty  flower  he  spies, 
And  thinks  all  honours,  favours,  may 
Be  had  for  taking  any  day  ! 
But  this  won't  do  in  every  case. 

FAUST. 

Ho,  Master  Graveairs,  is  it  so  ? 
Your  sermonising's  out  of  place. 
And,  in  a  word,  I'd  have  you  know, 
Unless  this  very  night  shall  see 
This  sweet  young  thing  in  my  embrace, 
All's  at  an  end  'twixt  you  and  me ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Think  of  the  obstacles  !     I  should 
Require  at  least  a  fortnight  good, 
To  bring  about  a  meeting  merely. 

FAUST. 

In  half  the  time  I'll  undertake, 
Without  the  devil's  aid,  to  make 
A  chit  like  that  adore  me  dearly. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Why,  by  your  talk,  now,  one  might  swear, 
That  you  almost  a  Frenchman  were ! 
But,  pray,  don't  lose  your  temper  so ! 
For  where's  the  good,  I'd  like  to  know, 
Of  rushing  to  enjoyment  straight  ? 


128  FAUST 

The  pleasure's  not  by  much  so  great, 
As  when  you've  first  by  every  kiud 
Of  foolish  fondling  to  your  mind 
The  doll  contrived  to  knead  and  mould, 
As  many  Italian  tales  have  told. 


FAUST. 

My  appetite,  I  tell  you,  wants 
No  such  fantastic  stimulants. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  may  be  ;  —  but,  apart  all  jest, 

Or  slight  upon  you,  I  protest, 

With  this  young  thing  you'll  ne'er  succeed, 

By  pushing  on  at  race-horse  speed. 

We  cannot  storm  the  town,  in  short, 

So  must  to  stratagem  resort. 


FAUST. 

Fetch  me  some  thing  she's  used  to  wear ! 
Her  bedroom,  introduce  me  there  ! 
A  kerchief  from  her  bosom  bring, 
The  darling's  garter,  anything ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  you  may  see  I  mean  to  spare 
No  pains  to  bring  your  suit  to  bear, 
We  shall  not  lose  one  moment,  —  nay, 
We'll  bring  you  to  her  room  this  very  day. 

FAUST. 

And  shall  I  see,  —  possess  her  ? 


FAUST  129 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No! 
She  will  be  with  a  neighbour.     So 
You  may,  quite  undisturbed  the  while, 
Within  her  atmosphere  beguile 
The  time  by  dreaming,  fancy  free, 
Of  pleasures  afterward  to  be. 

FAUST. 

Can  we  go  there  at  once  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  no. 
"lis  much  too  early  yet  to  go. 

FAUST. 

Provide  me  with  some  present  straight, 

Which  may  her  fancy  captivate  !  [Exit. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Presents  ?     Oh,  rare  !     He's  sure  to  make  a  hit. 
Full  many  a  famous  place  I  know, 
And  treasures  buried  long  ago. 
Well !     I  must  look  them  up  a  bit. 

ACT    III. 

Scene    T.  —  Evening. 
A  tidily  appointed  little  room. 

MARGARET  (braiding  and  binding  up  her  hair). 

Who  was  that  gentleman  ?     Heigho ! 
I  would  give  something,  now,  to  know. 


130  FAUST 

He  looked  so  frank  and  handsome,  he 

Of  noble  blood  must  surely  be. 

That  much,  at  least,  his  forehead  told ; 

He  ne'er  had  ventured  else  to  be  so  bold.      [Exit. 

Mephistopheles  and  Faust  enter. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Come  in  as  softly  as  you  may ! 

FAUST  (after  a  pause). 
Leave  me  alone  —  alone,  I  pray  ! 

mephistopheles  (peering  about  the  room). 
It  is  not  every  girl  keeps  things  so  neat.        [Exit. 

faust  (casting  his  eyes  around). 

Welcome,  thou  twilight  glimmer  sweet, 

Throughout  this  sanctuary  shed  ! 

Oh,  love's  delicious  pain,  that  art 

By  dews  of  hope  sustained  and  fed, 

Take  absolute  possession  of  my  heart ! 

How,  all  around,  there  breathes  a  sense 

Of  calm,  of  order,  and  content ! 

What  plenty  in  this  indigence  ! 

In  this  low  cell  what  ravishment ! 

[Casts  himself  down   upon  a  leathern  armchair 

by  the  bedside. 
Receive  me,  thou,  that  hast  with  open  arm 
Held  generations  past  in  joy  and  moan ! 
Ah  me !  how  often  has  a  rosy  swarm 
Of  children  clung  to  this  paternal  throne  ! 
Here  did  my  love,  perhaps,  with  grateful  breast 
For  gifts  the  holy  Christ-child  brought  her,  stand, 


FAUST  131 

Her  chubby  childish  cheeks  devoutly  pressed 

Against  her  aged  grandsire's  withered  hand. 

I  feel  thy  spirit,  maiden  sweet, 

Of  order  and  contentment  round  me  play, 

That  like  a  mother  schools  thee  day  by  day, 

Upon  the  table  bids  thee  lay 

The  cover  folded  fresh  and  neat, 

And  strew  the  sand  that  crackles  'neath  the  feet. 

Dear  hand,  that  dost  all  things  with  beauty  leaven, 

Thou  makest,  like  a  god,  this  lowly  home  a  heaven. 

And  here  !  [Raises  one  of  the  curtains  of  the  bed. 

What  rapturous  tremor  shakes  me  now  ? 
Here  could  I  linger  hours  untold. 
Here  the  incarnate  angel  thou, 
O  Nature,  didst  in  airy  visions  mould ; 
Here  lay  the  child,  its  gentle  breast 
Filled  with  warm  life ;  and,  hour  by  hour, 
The  bud,  by  hands  divine  caressed, 
Expanded  to  the  perfect  flower  ! 


And  thou  !     What  brings  thee  hither  ?     I 
Am  stirred  with  strange  emotion.     Why  ? 
What  wouldst  thou  here  ?     What  weight  so  sore 
Is  this  that  presses  on  thy  heart  ? 

0  hapless  Faust,  so  changed  thou  art, 

1  know  thee  now  no  more,  no  more ! 


Is't  some  enchanted  atmosphere 
Encompasses,  and  charms  me  here  ? 
Upon  possession's  bliss  supreme 
My  soul  till  now  was  madly  bent, 
And  now  in  a  delicious  dream 
Of  love  I  melt  away  content. 
Is  man,  with  all  his  powers  so  rare, 
The  sport  of  every  gust  of  air  ? 


132  FAUST 

And  if  she  were  to  enter  now, 
How  would  your  guilty  soul  her  glances  meet  ? 
The  mighty  braggart,  ah,  how  small !  would  bow, 
Dissolved  in  abject  terror,  at  her  feet. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Despatch !     She's  coming  to  the  door. 

FAUST. 

Hence  !     Hence !     Here  I  return  no  more. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Here  is  a  casket,  laden  well ; 

I  got  it,  where  ?  no  need  to  tell. 

If  you  will  only  place  it  there 

"Within  the  press  —  quick,  quick  !  —  I  swear 

She'll  be  beside  herself  with  joy. 

Some  baubles  there  I've  stowed  away  ; 

For  toys  we  angle  with  a  toy. 

Pah  !     Child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

FAUST. 

I  know  not  —  shall  I  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Can  you  ask  it  ? 
Perhaps  you'd  like  to  keep  the  casket ! 
In  that  case,  friend,  I  would  advise 
Your  lechery  to  economise 
The  precious  hours,  —  give  up  the  bubble, 
And  save  myself  all  farther  trouble. 
You  avaricious  ?     You  ?     Oh,  no  ! 


FAUST  133 

I  won't  believe  that  this  is  so. 

I  scratch  my  head  —  toil  might  and  main  — 

[He  places  the  casket  in  the  press  and  closes  the 

lock. 
Let  us  be  off !     Psha  !  lingering  still  ?  — 
The  sweet  young  thing  for  to  gain, 
And  bend  her  to  your  wish  and  will ; 
And  here  are  you  with  face  of  gloom, 
For  all  the  world  as  if  you  were 
Just  entering  your  lecture-room, 
And  saw  before  you  Physics  there, 
And  Metaphysics  grimly  stare  ! 
Come !     Start !  [Exeunt 

MAKGARET  (enters  with  a  lamp). 

It  is  so  close,  so  sultry  here!     [Opens  the  window. 

And  yet  outside  'twas  rather  chilly. 

I  feel,  I  can't  tell  how ;  oh,  dear ! 

I  wish  that  mother  would  come  in. 

I  have  a  creeping  all  over  my  skin. 

I'm  such  a  frightened  thing,  —  so  silly  ! 

[Begins  to  sing  as  she  undresses  herself. 

In  Thule  dwelt  a  King,  and  he 

Was  leal  unto  the  grave  ; 
A  cup  to  him  of  the  red  red  gold 

His  leman  dying  gave. 

He  quaffed  it  to  the  dregs,  whene'er 

He  drank  among  his  peers, 
And  ever,  as  he  drained  it  down, 

His  eyes  would  brim  with  tears. 

And  when  his  end  drew  near,  he  told 
His  kingdom's  cities  up, 


134  FAUST 

Gave  all  his  wealth  unto  his  heir, 
But  with  it  not  the  cup. 

He  sat  and  feasted  at  the  board, 

His  knights  around  his  knee, 
Within  the  palace  of  his  sires, 

Hard  by  the  roaring  sea. 

Then  up  he  rose,  that  toper  old, 

A  long  last  breath  he  drew, 
And  down  the  cup  he  loved  so  well 

Into  the  ocean  threw. 

He  saw  it  flash,  then  settle  down, 

Down,  down  into  the  sea, 
And,  as  he  gazed,  his  eyes  grew  dim, 

Nor  ever  again  drank  he. 

[She  opens  the  press  to  put  away  her  clothes,  arid 
discovers  the  casket. 
What's  here  ?     How  comes  this  lovely  casket  thus  ? 
I'm  very  confident  I  locked  the  press. 
Tis  surely  most  mysterious  ! 
What  it  contains  I  cannot  guess. 
In  pledge  for  money  lent,  maybe, 
'Tis  with  my  mother  left  to  keep  ? 
A  ribbon  and  a  little  key  I 
I've  half  a  mind  to  take  a  peep. 
What's  this  ?     Great  heavens !     All  my  days 
The  like  of  this  I've  never  seen,  — 
Jewels  and  trinkets  !     Such  a  blaze 
Might  grace  a  duchess,  ay,  a  queen  ! 
On  me  how  would  the  necklace  sit  ? 
Whose  can  they  be,  these  braveries  fine  ? 

[Puts  on  the  trinkets  and  walks  before  the  looking- 
glass. 


FAUST  135 

Oh,  if  the  ear-rings  were  but  mine ! 

In  them  one  doesn't  look  the  same  a  bit. 

You  may  be  young,  you  may  be  pretty ; 

All  very  nice  and  fine  to  view, 

But  nobody  cares  a  straw  for  you, 

And,  if  folks  praise,  'tis  half  in  pity. 

For  gold  all  strive, 

For  gold  all  wive. 

Tis  gold  rules  all  things  'neath  the  sun. 

Alas !  we  poor  folks  that  have  none ! 


Scene  II.  —  Public  Promenade. 

Faust  walking  up  and  down  wrapt  in  thought. 
To  him  Mephistopheles. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

By  love  despised  and  its  tortures  fell ! 
By  all  the  elements  of  hell ! 
Oh,  would  I  only  knew  something  worse, 
That  I  might  cram  it  into  a  curse ! 

FAUST. 

What's  wrong  ?     What  puts  you  in  such  case  ? 
In  all  my  life  I  ne'er  saw  such  a  face. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  devil's  self  if  I  were  not, 

I'd  pitch  myself  to  him  on  the  spot ! 

FAUST. 

What  has  befallen  to  rob  you  of  your  wits ! 
How  well  on  you  this  maniac  fury  sits  ! 


136  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Just  think  —  'tis  not  to  be  endured  — 
The  set  of  jewels  I  procured 
For  Margaret,  a  rascal  priest 
Has  swept  clean  off,  —  he  has,  the  beast ! 
Her  mother  of  them  got  an  inkling, 
And  fell  to  quaking  in  a  twinkling. 
The  nose  that  woman  has,  you'd  ne'er 
Believe,  for  scenting  all  that's  wrong. 
Over  her  Book  of  Common  Prayer 
She  snuffles,  snuffles,  all  day  loug. 
With  sanctimonious  scowl  demure, 
At  every  stick  of  furniture 
She  drops  her  nose  to  ascertain 
If  it  be  holy  or  profane. 
So  in  the  trinkets  soon  she  spies 
That  not  much  of  a  blessing  lies. 
Quoth  she,  "  All  such  unrighteous  gear 
Corrupts  both  body  and  soul,  my  dear. 
So  let  us,  then,  this  devil's  bait 
To  Mary  Mother  consecrate, 
And  she,  as  recompense  instead, 
Will  gladden  us  with  heavenly  bread." 
Poor  Gretchen  pulled  a  long  wry  face. 
"  Gift  horse  ! "  thought  she,  "  in  any  case  ! 
And  very  godless  he  cannot  be 
Who  brought  it  here  so  handsomely." 
The  mother  for  the  parson  sent, 
Who  heard  her  nonsense,  and  his  eyes, 
Be  sure,  they  gleamed  with  a  rare  content, 
When  he  beheld  the  glistening  prize. 
Quoth  he,  "  A  holy  frame  of  mind  ! 
Who  conquers  self  leaves  all  behind ! 
The  Church,  for  whom  your  gift  is  meant, 
A  stomach  has  most  excellent. 
Whole  countries,  land,  and  grange,  and  town, 


FAUST  137 

She  at  a  meal  has  swallowed  down, 
Yet  ne'er,  however  gorged  with  pelf, 
Was  known  to  overeat  herself. 
The  Church,  my  dears,  alone  with  zest 
Can  such  unrighteous  gear  digest." 

FAUST. 

That  power  it  shares  with  not  a  few ; 
Your  king,  now,  has  it,  eke  your  Jew. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

So  saying,  he  swept  off  amain 

Ring,  necklace,  bracelet,  brooch,  and  chain, 

With  quite  as  unconcerned  an  air 

As  if  they  merely  mushrooms  were, 

Treating  my  precious  gems  and  casket 

Like  nuts  so  many  in  a  basket ; 

And,  promising  that  heaven  no  end 

Of  fair  rewards  to  them  would  send, 

He  took  his  leave,  and  there  they  sat, 

Immensely  edified  by  that. 

FAUST. 

And  Gretchen  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

She  is  all  unrest, 
And  scarce  knows  what  she'd  like  the  best, 
Thinks  of  the  trinkets  night  and  day, 
And  more  of  them  that  brought  them  —  hey  ! 

FAUST. 

It  pains  me  that  my  love  should  fret. 
Fetch  her  at  once  another  set ! 
The  first  were  no  great  things.  — 


138  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Heyday ! 
All  things  are  to  my  lord  child's  play. 

FAUST. 

Do  what  I  wish,  and  quickly  !     Go  ! 
Stick  to  her  neighbour  close.     Be  no 
Mere  milk-and-water  devil,  and  get 
Of  these  gewgaws  another  set. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  you  desire  it  is  enough.  [Exit  Faust. 

Such  lovesick  fools  away  will  puff 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  into  the  air, 
And  all  to  please  their  lady  fair. 


Scene  III.  —  The  Neighbour's  House. 

martha  (alone). 

My  good  man,  God  forgive  me,  he 

Has  acted  scurvily  by  me, 

To  start  away,  the  Lord  knows  where, 

And  leave  me  widowed,  lone,  and  bare. 

I  never  plagued  him  —  God  forbid  !  — 

I  loved  him  dearly,  that  I  did.  [Weeps. 

Perhaps  he's  dead,  though  ?     Cruel  fate  ! 

Had  I  but  some  certificate, 

The  fact  officially  to  state  ! 

Enter  MARGARET. 

MARGARET. 

Martha ! 


FAUST  139 

MARTHA. 

What  ails  my  pretty  dear  ? 

MARGARET. 

I  feel  just  like  to  drop.     See  here  ! 
Another  casket  —  nothing  less  — 
Of  ebony  left  in  my  press  ! 
And  things,  so  grand  and  fine,  I  feel 
They're  costlier  than  the  first  a  deal. 

MARTHA. 

You  must  not  let  your  mother  know, 
Or  to  the  priest  they,  too,  will  go. 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  see,  now,  see !     Look  at  them,  do ! 

MARTHA. 

You  lucky,  lucky  creature  you  ! 

MARGARET. 

Alas !  I  never  dare  appear, 

In  the  street  or  at  church,  in  such  fine  gear. 

MARTHA. 

To  me  come  often  over,  lass ; 
You  can  put  them  on,  and  nobody  know ; 
Parade  a  good  hour  before  the  glass, 
We'll  have  our  own  enjoyment  so. 
And  then,  if  you'll  but  wait,  no  doubt 
You're  sure  somehow  to  get  a  chance 
Little  by  little  to  bring  them  out, 
On  holidays,  or  at  a  dance. 


140  FAUST 

We'll  manage  it  so  as  to  make  no  stir ; 
A  necklace  first,  and  then  the  pearl 
Ear-rings  —  your  mother  won't  notice,  girl ; 
We  can  always  make  out  some  story  for  her. 

MARGARET. 

But  who  could  both  the  caskets  bring  ? 
There's  something  wrong  about  the  thing. 

[A  knock  at  the  door. 
Good  heavens !     Should  that  be  mother  ! 

MARTHA. 

Nay, 
Some  stranger  'tis  —  Come  in ! 

mephistopheles  (entering). 

I  pray 
Your  pardon,  ladies,  for  intruding  thus, 
Tis  most  unceremonious. 

[Steps  back  respectfully  on  seeing  Margaret. 
Which  may  Dame  Martha  Schwerdtlein  be  ? 

MARTHA. 

What  is  your  pleasure  ?     I  am  she. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside  to  her). 

Now  that  I  know  you,  that  will  do. 
You've  quality,  I  see,  with  you. 
Excuse  the  liberty  I  took : 
In  later  in  the  day  I'll  look. 

MARTHA  (aloud). 

Just  think,  the  odd  mistake  he  made !     He 
Fancied,  child,  you  were  a  lady. 


FAUST  141 

MARGARET. 

A  simple  girl  am  I,  and  poor. 

The  gentleman's  too  kind,  I'm  sure. 

These  ornaments  are  not  my  own. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  not  the  ornaments  alone  ; 

The  piercing  glance,  the  air  urbane  — 

How  glad  I  am  I  may  remain ! 

MARTHA. 

Your  news,  sir  ?     I'm  all  ears  !     How  went  it  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  would  my  tale  were  less  distressing. 

On  me,  I  trust,  you  won't  resent  it  ? 

Your  husband's  dead,  and  sends  his  blessing. 

MARTHA. 

Is  dead  ?     Poor  darling  !  lackaday  ! 
My  husband's  dead.     I  faint  away  ! 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  keep  your  heart  up,  dearest  friend  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Hear  the  sad  story  to  the  end  ! 

MARGARET. 

'Tis  things  like  this  which  make  me  pray 

That  fall  in  love  I  never  may ; 

For  such  a  loss,  I  do  believe, 

To  death  itself  would  make  me  grieve. 


142  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ah,  joy  goes  hand  in  hand  with  care. 

MAKTHA. 

But  tell  me  how  he  died  and  where  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  Padua  his  bones  repose. 
There,  ma'am,  in  Saint  Antonio's,  — 
The  best  of  consecrated  ground,  — 
A  quiet  corner  he  has  found. 

MARTHA. 

But  have  you  nought  for  me  beside  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yes,  one  most  weighty,  huge  request,  — 
Three  hundred  masses  to  provide, 
To  sing  his  poor  soul  into  rest. 
Of  all  but  this  my  pocket's  bare. 

MARTHA. 

What !     Not  a  luck-penny  ?     What !     Ne'er 
A  trinket,  —  token  ?     Why,  there's  not 
A  handicraftsman  but  has  got, 
Somewhere  within  his  wallet  stored, 
However  bare,  some  little  hoard, 
Something  to  touch  a  body's  heart  with, 
He'd  sooner  starve,  or  beg,  than  part  with. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  feel  for  you,  but  let  me  say 
His  money  was  not  fooled  away. 


FAUST  1 43 

Besides,  he  did  his  sins  deplore, 

But  mourned  his  evil  luck  considerably  more. 

MARGARET. 

Alas  !  that  men  should  be  so  wretched  !     He 

Shall  for  his  soul's  repose  have  many  a  prayer  from  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You  are  so  good,  so  charming,  you 
Deserve  a  husband,  ay,  and  quickly  too. 

MARGARET. 

Ah,  no  !     Too  soon  for  that  !     I  can't  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well,  till  the  husband  comes,  then,  a  gallant ! 
Heaven  has  no  boon  more  sweet,  more  rare, 
Than  in  one's  arms  to  fold  a  thing  so  fair. 

MARGARET. 

That's  not  our  country's  usage,  sir. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Usage  or  not,  such  things  occur. 

MARTHA. 

Go  on,  sir 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  was  at  his  side, 
There  by  the  bed  on  which  he  died, 
A  sorrier  eyes  never  saw, 
A  mere  dung-heap  of  rotten  straw. 
Yet  still  he  made  a  Christian  ending, 
And  found  that,  what  with  drink  and  spending, 


144  FAUST 

He  had  run  up  a  great  deal  more 

Than  he  had  thought  for,  on  his  score. 
"  How  I  detest  myself ! "  cried  he, 
"  For  having  so  disgracefully 

Deserted  both  my  wife  and  calling. 

The  very  thought  on't  is  appalling ! 

It  saps  my  life.     Could  I  but  know 

That  she  forgives  me,  ere  I  die ! " 

martha  (weeping). 
Dear  heart !     I  —  I  forgave  him  long  ago. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

"  Still,  God  knows,  she  was  more  to  blame  than  I." 

MARTHA. 

He  lied  there  !     What !     To  lie,  the  knave, 
Upon  the  threshold  of  the  grave ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

His  latest  gasps  were  spent  in  fiction, 

That  is  my  most  profound  conviction. 
"  Small  time  for  idling  had  I,"  he  said, 
"  First  getting  children,  then  getting  them  bread, 

And  clothing  their  backs,  yet  never  had  yet 

A  moment's  quiet  to  eat  my  crust." 

MARTHA. 

Did  he  thus  all  my  truth,  my  love,  forget, 
My  drudging  early  and  late  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Be  just! 
Not  so.     Of  that  in  his  dejection 


FAUST  145 

He  showed  a  touching  recollection. 
"  When  I,"  he  said,  "  was  leaving  Malta,  I 
Prayed  for  my  wife  and  children  most  devoutly. 
Heaven  so  far  blessed  my  prayers  that  by-and-by 
We  met  a  Turkish  galley,  took  it  stoutly. 
It  carried  treasure  for  the  Sultan.     There 
Valour  for  once  had  its  reward,  'tis  true, 
And  I  received  —  and  'twas  my  simple  due  — 
Of  what  we  took  a  very  handsome  share." 


MAKTHA. 

What  ?     How  ?     He  hid  it  somewhere,  I  suppose  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Where  the  four  winds  have  blown  it  now,  who  knows  ? 

Strolling  forlorn  in  Naples  through  the  city, 

A  damsel  on  his  loneliness  took  pity, 

And  such  warm  tenderness  between  them  passed, 

He  bore  its  marks,  poor  saint,  about  him  to  the  last. 

MARTHA. 

Wretch !     To  his  children  play  the  thief  ? 
Not  all  his  want,  not  all  his  grief, 
Could  check  his  shameless  life. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ay,  ma'am,  but  surely 
'Twas  this  that  killed  him  prematurely. 
Now,  were  I  in  your  place,  I  would 
Mourn  one  chaste  year  of  widowhood ; 
And  look  about  meanwhile  to  find 
A  second  husband  to  my  mind. 


146  FAUST 

MARTHA. 

Ah  me !     With  all  his  faults  I  durst 
Not  hope  to  find  one  like  the  first. 
A  kinder-hearted  fool  than  he 
'Twas  scarcely  possible  to  be. 
His  only  fault  was,  that  from  home 
He  was  too  much  inclined  to  roam, 
Loved  foreign  women  —  filthy  vice  !  — 
And  foreign  wine,  and  those  curst  dice. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  different  might  have  been  his  state, 

Had  he,  poor  wretch,  been  equally 

Forbearing  and  affectionate ! 

Treat  me  as  well,  and,  I  protest, 

I'd  ask  you  to  change  rings  with  me. 

MARTHA. 

0  Lord,  sir,  you  are  pleased  to  jest ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside). 

I'd  best  be  off  now  !     This  absurd 

Old  fool  would  take  the  devil  at  his  word. 

[To  Margaret. 
How  is  it  with  your  heart  ?  —  Content  ? 

MARGARET. 

What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Sweet  innocent ! 
(Aloud)  Ladies,  farewell ! 


FAUST  147 

MARGARET. 

Farewell ! 


MARTHA. 

Before 
You  go,  sir,  give  me  one  word  more. 
I'd  like  to  have  some  proof  to  show 
Where,  how,  and  when  my  darling  died, 
And  was  interred.     I've  always  tried 
To  be  methodical,  and  so 
'Twould  comfort  me,  it  would  indeed, 
Could  I  his  death  but  in  the  papers  read. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  certainly,  good  madam,  I 

Your  wish  at  once  can  gratify. 

One  witness  bv  another  backed, 

All  the  world  over,  proves  a  fact. 

I  have  a  friend  in  town  here,  who  will  state 

What  you  require  before  the  magistrate. 

I'll  bring  him  here  with  me. 

MARTHA. 

Oh,  do,  sir,  pray  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  this  young  lady  will  be  with  you,  eh  ? 

A  fine  young  fellow  !     A  great  traveller  !     Quite 

A  ladies'  man,  —  especially  polite. 

MARGARET. 

I'd  sink  with  shame  before  him,  sir. 


148  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No  !     Not  before  an  emperor. 

MARTHA. 

At  dusk  in  my  back  garden  we 

You  and  your  friend  will  hope  to  see. 


Scene  IV.  —  Street. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

faust. 
What  speed  ?     Will't  work  ?     What  of  my  dear  ? 

mephistopheles. 

Bravo  !     So  hot  ?     You'll  shortly  bring 

Your  quarry  down.     This  evening 

At  neighbour  Martha's  shall  you  see  her! 

That  is  a  woman  made  express 

To  play  the  pimp  and  procuress. 

FAUST. 

Good !     Good ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

But  there  is  something,  too, 
That  she  requires  of  us  to  do. 

FAUST. 
Well,  one  good  turn  deserves  another. 


FAUST  149 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We 
Have  to  depone  —  a  mere  formality  — 
That  stiff  arid  stark  her  husband's  carcass  lies 
In  Padua  in  holy  ground. 

FAUST. 

Most  wise  ! 
Why,  we  must  make  the  journey  first,  of  course  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Sancta  simplicitas  !     No  need  of  that !     You  just 
Speak  to  the  facts,  and  take  them  upon  trust. 

FAUST. 

The  game  is  up,  if  that's  the  sole  resource. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

O  holy  man  !  is  this  your  cue  ? 

Is  this  the  first  time  in  your  life  that  you 

Have  borne  false  witness  ?     Have  you  not 

In  language  the  most  positive  defined 

God,  the  world,  all  that  moves  therein,  mankind, 

His  capabilities  of  feeling,  thought, 

Ay,  done  it  with  a  breast  undashed 

By  faintest  fear,  a  forehead  unabashed  ? 

Yet  tax  yourself,  and  you  must  own  that  you 

As  much  in  truth  about  these  matters  knew 

As  of  Herr  Schwerdtlein's  death  you  do. 

FAUST. 

Liar  and  sophist,  thou  wilt  be 
Liar  and  sophist  to  the  close  ! 


150  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  certainly,  could  one  not  see 

A  little  farther  before  one's  nose. 

To-morrow  will  not  you  —  of  course, 

In  all  integrity  !  —  beguile 

Poor  Margaret,  and  your  suit  enforce, 

By  swearing  all  your  soul  hangs  on  her  smile  ? 

FAUST. 

And  from  my  heart  I'd  speak. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

O  specious  art ! 
You'll  talk  about  eternal  truth  and  love, 
Of  passion,  all  control,  all  change,  above ; 
Will  this,  too,  come  quite  purely  from  the  heart  ? 

FAUST. 

Peace,  fiend  !  it  will !     What !     If  I  feel, 

And  for  that  feeling,  frenzy,  flame, 

I  seek,  but  cannot  rind  a  name, 

Then  through  the  round  of  nature  reel, 

With  every  sense  at  fever  heat, 

Snatching  at  all  sublimest  phrases, 

And  call  this  fire,  that  in  me  blazes, 

Endless,  eternal,  ay,  eternal,  — 

Is  this  mere  devilish  deceit, 

Devised  to  dazzle,  and  to  cheat  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yet  am  I  right. 

FAUST. 

Thou  fiend  infernal ! 
Hear  me !     And  mark,  too,  what  I  say, 


FAUST  15 r 


So  spare  these  lungs  of  mine,  I  pray. 
He  that's  resolved  he's  in  the  right, 
And  has  but  tongue  enough,  is  quite 
Secure  to  gain  his  point.     But  come, 
This  babblement  grows  wearisome. 
Right,  then,  thou  art.     I  grant  it,  just 
Because  I  cannot  choose  but  must. 


Scene   V.  —  Garden. 

Margaret  on  Faust's  arm.     Martha  with 
Mephistopheles  walking  up  and  down. 

MARGARET. 

You  only  bear  with  me,  I'm  sure  you  do, 

You  stoop,  to  shame  me,  you  so  wise. 

You  travellers  are  so  used  to  view 

All  things  you  come  across  with  kindly  eyes. 

I  know  my  poor  talk  can  but  weary  such 

A  man  as  you,  that  must  have  known  so  much. 

FAUST. 

One  glance,  one  word  of  thine,  to  me  is  more 
Than  all  this  world's  best  wisdom  —  all  its  lore. 

[Kisses  her  hand. 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  no,  sir,  no  !     How  can  you  kiss  it  ?     'Tis 
So  coarse,  so  hard  —  it  is  not  fit  — 
The  things  I've  had  to  do  with  it ! 
Mother's  too  niggardly  —  indeed  she  is. 

[They  pass  on. 

MARTHA. 

And  you,  like  this,  are  always  travelling,  sir  ? 


J52  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Business,  alas  !  and  duty  force  us.     Ah  !  what  pain 
It  costs  a  man  from  many  a  place  to  stir, 
Where  yet  his  fate  forbids  him  to  remain  ! 

MARTHA. 

'Tis  very  well  to  rove  this  way 

About  the  world  when  young,  and  strong,  and  brave. 

But  soon  or  later  comes  the  evil  day ; 

And  to  go  crawling  on  into  the  grave 

A  stiff  old  lonely  bachelor,  —  that  can 

Never  be  good  for  any  man. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  shudder,  thinking  such  may  be  my  fate. 

MARTHA. 

Then,  sir,  be  wise,  before  it  is  too  late.   [  They  pass  on. 

MARGARET. 

Yes  !     Out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind  ! 
Politeness  costs  you  nothing.     Why, 
You've  friends  in  plenty,  good  and  kind, 
And  they  have  far  more  sense  than  I. 


FAUST. 

Oh,  best  of  creatures,  trust  me,  the  pretence 
Of  that  which  passes  with  the  world  for  sense 
More  frequently  is  neither  more  nor  less 
Than  self-conceit  and  narrow-mindedness. 

MARGARET. 

How  so  ? 


FAUST  153 


FAUST. 


Ah  !     That  simplicity 
And  innocence  will  never  recognise 
Themselves,  and  all  their  worth  so  holy ! 
That  meekness  and  a  spirit  lowly, 
The  highest  gifts,  that  Nature's  free 
And  loving  bounty  can  devise  — 

MARGARET. 

A  little  moment  only  think  of  me ; 

I  shall  have  time  enough  to  think  of  you. 

FAUST. 

You're  much  alone,  then  ? 

MARGARET. 

Yes  !     'Tis  true, 
Our  household's  small,  but  still,  you  see, 
It  wants  no  little  looking  to. 
We  have  no  maid  ;  so  I've  to  do 
The  cooking,  sewing,  knitting,  sweeping ; 
I'm  on  my  feet  from  morn  till  night, 
And  mother's  so  exacting,  and  so  tight 
In  her  housekeeping. 

Not  that  she  needs  to  pinch  so  close.     We  might 
Much  more  at  ease  than  other  people  be. 
My  father  left  us,  when  he  died, 
A  cottage  with  some  garden  ground,  outside 
The  town,  a  tidy  bit  of  property. 
But  now  I  am  not  near  so  sore  bestead. 
My  brother  is  away  —  a  soldier  he. 
My  little  sister's  dead. 

Ah  !  with  the  child  I  had  a  world  of  trouble. 
And  yet,  and  yet,  I'd  gladly  undergo 


154  FAUST 

It  all  again,  though  it  were  double, 
I  loved  the  darling  so. 

FAUST. 

An  angel,  sweet,  if  it  resembled  you ! 

MARGARET. 

I  brought  it  up,  and,  do  you  know, 

It  loved  me  with  a  love  so  true ! 

My  father  died  before  'twas  born, 

We  gave  up  mother  for  lost ;  her  fit 

Left  her  so  wasted,  and  so  forlorn, 

And  very,  very  slow  she  mended,  bit  by  bit. 

She  could  not,  therefore,  dream  herself 

Of  suckling  the  poor  little  elf ; 

And  so  I  nursed  it  all  alone, 

On  milk  and  water,  till  at  last 

It  grew  my  very  own. 

Upon  my  arm,  within  my  breast, 

It  smiled,  and  crowed,  and  grew  so  fast. 

FAUST. 

You  must  have  felt  most  purely  blest. 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  yes  !     Still  I  had  many  things  to  try  me. 

The  baby's  cradle  stood  at  night 

Beside  my  bed :  if  it  but  stirred,  I  would 

Awake  in  fright. 

One  time  I  had  to  give  it  drink  or  food, 

Another  time  to  lay  it  by  me ; 

Then,  if  it  had  a  crying  fit, 

Out  of  my  bed  I  needs  must  get, 

And  up  and  down  the  room  go  dandling  it ; 

And  yet 


FAUST  155 

Be  standing  at  the  wash-tub  by  daybreak, 
Then  do  the  marketing,  set  the  house  to  rights : 
And  so  it  went  on,  mornings,  middays,  nights, 
Always  the  same !     Such  things  will  make 
One's  spirits  not  at  all  times  of  the  best, 
Still  they  give  relish  to  our  food,  our  rest. 

\_TJtey  pass  on. 

MARTHA. 

Poor  women  get  the  worst  on't,  though.     A  dry 
Old  bachelor's  not  easy  to  convert. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Would  one  like  you  but  make  the  trial,  I 
My  wicked  ways  might  soon  desert. 

MARTHA. 

Frankly,  now  !     Is  there  no  one  you  have  met  ? 
Has  not  your  heart  formed  some  attachment  yet  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  says  the  proverb  ?     A  hearth  of  one's  own, 
And  a  housewife  good,  it  is  well  known, 
Are  better  than  gold  or  precious  stone. 

MARTHA. 

I  mean,  sir,  have  you  never  had  a  liking  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  favour  shown  me  everywhere  is  striking. 

MARTHA. 

I  wished  to  say,  your  heart,  has  it 

Never  been  conscious  of  a  serious  feeling  ? 


156  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Madam,  a  jesting  mood  were  most  unfit, 

Not  to  say  dangerous,  when  witli  ladies  dealing. 

MARTHA. 

Ah,  you  don't  understand  what  I'd  be  at. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'm  grieved  most  heartily  for  that. 

But  this  is  quite  clear  to  my  mind, 

That  you  are  very,  very  kind.  [^iey  Pass  on. 

FAUST. 

When  I  came  in,  you  little  angel,  then, 
You  knew  me  at  a  glance  again  ? 

MARGARET. 

Did  you  not  see  ?     I  could  not  meet  your  look. 

FAUST. 

And  you  forgive  the  liberty  I  took, 
The  mad  impertinence  which  prompted  me 
To  stop  you  on  the  street  the  other  day, 
As  you  came  out  from  the  Cathedral  door  ? 

MARGARET. 

It  took  me  quite  aback.     What  could  it  1  >e  ? 

Nothing  like  this  had  e'er  occurred  before. 

No  one  of  me  an  evil  word  could  say. 

And  then  it  crossed  my  thoughts :  "  Alas,  the  day ! 

Can  he  about  me  anything  have  seen 

Bold  or  unmaidenly  in  look  or  mien  ? " 


FAUST  157 


It  seemed  as  if  the  thought  had  struck  you  —  She 
Is  just  the  girl  with  whom  one  can  make  free ! 
Let  me  confess  the  truth  !     Not  then  I  knew 
What  in  your  favour  here  began  to  stir ; 
But  with  myself  I  was  right  angry,  sir, 
That  I  could  not  be  angrier  with  you. 

FAUST. 

Sweet  love ! 

MARGARET. 

Stay! 
[She  plucks  a  star-floiver,  and  picks  off  the  petals, 
one  after  the  other. 

FAUST. 

What  is  this  ?     A  nosegay  ? 


No! 


MARGARET. 

Only  a  game. 

FAUST. 

A  game  ? 

MARGARET. 

You'll  mock  me  —  Go ! 

FAUST. 

What  is  it  thou  art  murmuring  ?     What  ? 

MARGARET. 

He  loves  me,  loves  me  not. 


158  FAUST 

FAUST. 

I  guess! 
Angelic  creature ! 

MARGARET. 

Loves  me  not, 
Loves  me  —  not  —  he  loves  me ! 

FAUST. 

Yes! 
Let  what  this  flower  has  told  thee  be 
A  revelation  as  from  heaven  to  thee ! 
Speak  to  me,  dearest !  Dost  thou  comprehend 
All  that  these  simple  words  portend  ? 
He  loves  me  !  [Seizes  both  her  hands. 

MARGARET. 

I  am  all  a-tremble ! 

FAUST. 

Oh,  do  not  tremble  !     Let  this  look, 

This  pressure  of  the  hand,  proclaim  to  thee 

What  words  can  never  speak ;  what  bids  us  now 

Surrender  soul  and  sense,  to  feel 

A  rapture  which  must  be  eternal  ? 

Eternal,  for  its  end  would  be  despair ! 

No,  no,  no  end  !     No  end  ! 

[Margaret  presses  his  hands,  breaks  from  him, 

and  runs  off.     He  stands  for  a  moment  in 

thought,  then  follows  her. 

MARTHA  {advancing). 
Tis  growing  dark  ! 


FAUST  159 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yes,  and  we  must  away. 

MARTHA. 

I'd  ask  you  longer  here  to  stay 

Were  this  not  such  a  wicked  place. 

Folks  seem  to  have  nought  else  to  do,  I  vow, 

Or  think  about,  except  to  play 

The  spy  upon  their  neighbours  —  how 

They  rise,  lie  down,  come  in,  go  out ; 

And,  take  what  heed  one  may,  in  any  case 

One's  certain  to  get  talked  about. 

But  our  young  couple  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

They  have  flown 
Up  yonder  walk.     The  giddy  butterflies ! 

MARTHA. 

Quite  fond  of  her,  methinks,  he's  grown. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  she  of  him.     Could  it  be  otherwise  ? 


Scene   VI.  —  A  Summer-house. 

Margaret  runs  in,  places  herself  behind  the  door,  holds 
the  tip  of  her  finger  to  her  lips,  and  peeps  through 
the  crevice. 

MARGARET. 

He's  coming 

FAUST. 

Did  you  fancy  you 
Could  give  me  so  the  slip  ?     Ah,  then, 
I've  caught  you,  rogue  !  [Kisses  her. 


160  FAUST 

Margaret  (embracing  him  and  returning  the  kiss). 

Oh,  best  of  men, 

I  love  thee,  from  my  heart  I  do. 

[Mephistopheles  knocks. 

FAUST  (stamping  his  foot). 
Who's  there  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  friend ! 

FAUST. 

Beast,  beast ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  time  to  go. 
Martha  (comes  up). 
Yes,  sir,  'tis  late. 

FAUST. 

Mayn't  I  escort  you  ? 

MARGARET. 

No! 
My  mother  would  —  Farewell ! 

FAUST. 

Must  I  begone  ? 
Farewell ! 

MARTHA. 

Adieu ! 

FAUST. 

To  meet  again  anon  ! 

[Exeunt  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 


FAUST  161 


MARGARET. 


Dear  God  !     The  things  of  every  kind 
A  man  like  this  has  in  his  mind  ! 
I  stand  before  him  dashed  and  shy, 
And  say  to  all  he  speaks  of,  yes. 
In  such  a  simple  child  as  I, 
What  he  should  see,  I  cannot  guess. 


Scene  VII.  —  Forest  and  Cavern. 

FAUST  (alone). 

Majestic  spirit,  thou  hast  given  me  all 

For  which  I  prayed.     Thou  not  in  vain  didst  turn 

Thy  countenance  to  me  in  fire  and  flame. 

Thou  glorious  Nature  for  my  realm  hast  given, 

With  power  to  feel,  and  to  enjoy  her.     Thou 

No  mere  cold  glance  of  wonder  hast  vouchsafed, 

But  lett'st  me  peer  deep  down  into  her  breast, 

Even  as  into  the  bosom  of  a  friend. 

Before  me  thou  in  long  procession  lead'st 

All  things  that  live,  and  teachest  me  to  know 

My  kindred  in  still  grove,  in  air,  and  stream. 

And,  when   the   storm    sweeps    roaring   through   the 

woods, 
Upwrenching  by  the  roots  the  giant  pines, 
Whose  neighbouring  trunks,  and  intertangled  boughs, 
In  crashing  ruin  tear  each  other  down, 
And  shake  with  roar  of  thunder  all  the  hills, 
Then  dost  thou  guide  me  to  some  sheltering  cave, 
There  show'st  me  to  myself,  and  mine  own  soul 
Teems  marvels  forth  I  weened  not  of  before. 
And  when  the  pure  moon,  with  her  mellowing  light, 
Mounts  as  I  gaze,  then  from  the  rocky  walls, 
And  out  from  the  dank  underwood,  ascend 


i 62  FAUST 

Forms  silvery-clad  of  ages  long  ago, 
And  soften  the  austere  delight  of  thought. 

Oh,  now  I  feel  no  perfect  boon  is  e'er 
Achieved  by  man.     With  this  ecstatic  power, 
Which  brings  me  hourly  nearer  to  the  gods, 
A  yokemate  thou  hast  given  me,  whom  even  now 
I  can  no  more  dispense  with,  though  his  cold 
Insulting  scorn  degrades  me  to  myself, 
And  turns  thy  gifts  to  nothing  with  a  breath. 
Within  my  breast  he  fans  unceasingly 
A  raging  fire  for  that  bewitching  form. 
So  to  fruition  from  desire  I  reel, 
And  'midst  fruition  languish  for  desire. 

[Enter  Mephistopheles. 

MEPRTSTOPHELES. 

What !     Not  yet  weary  of  this  life  of  quiet  ? 
How  can  it  charm  you  such  a  while  ?     Pooh,  pooh ! 
Tis  very  well  once  in  a  way  to  try  it ; 
And  then  away  again  to  something  new ! 

FAUST. 

Would  thou  hadst  something  else  to  do, 
Than  tease  me  when  I  would  be  still ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  I  will  leave  you,  if  you  will, 

And  leave  you  very  gladly,  too. 

No  need  to  be  so  very  cross. 

A  surly  peevish  mate  like  you 

Is  truly  little  of  a  loss. 

My  hands  are  full  from  morn  till  night, 

And  yet  by  look  or  sign  you  won't 

Let  me  divine  what's  wrong  or  right, 

What  things  you  like,  and  what  you  don't. 


FAUST  163 


FAUST. 


The  true  tone  hit  exactly  !     He 
Wants  to  be  thanked  for  boring  me. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


Why,  without  me,  poor  son  of  clay, 

What  sort  of  life  would  you  have  led  ? 

I've  cured  that  brain  of  yours,  this  many  a  day, 

Of  the  whim- whams  your  sickly  fancy  bred  ; 

And  from  this  ball  of  earth  you  clean  away 

Had,  but  for  me,  long,  long  ago  been  sped. 

Is  it  for  you  to  mope  and  scowl 

In  clefts  and  caverns,  like  an  owl  ? 

Or,  like  a  toad,  lap  nourishment 

From  oozy  moss,  and  dripping  stones  ? 

Oh,  pastime  rare  and  excellent ! 

The  doctor  still  sticks  in  your  bones. 


FAUST. 

Dost  comprehend  what  stores  of  fresh  life-force 
I  gain  in  roaming  thus  by  wold  and  waste  ? 
Ay,  couldst  thou  but  divine  it,  thou,  of  course, 
Art  too  much  fiend  such  bliss  to  let  me  taste. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  super-earthly  ecstasy  !     To  camp 

On  mountains  in  the  dark,  and  dews,  and  damp ! 

In  transports  to  embrace  the  earth  and  sky, 

Yourself  into  a  deity  inflate, 

Pierce  the  earth's  marrow  by  the  light  of  high, 

Unreasoning  presentiments  innate, 

Feel  in  your  breast  the  whole  six  days'  creation, 

And,  in  the  pride  of  conscious  power,  to  glow 

With  quite  incomprehensible  elation  ; 

Anon  with  lover's  raptures  to  o'erflow 


i 64  FAUST 

Into  the  Universal  All,  with  now 
No  vestige  left  to  mark  the  child  of  clay. 
This  trance  ecstatic,  glorious  in  its  way, 
All  winding  up  at  last  —  [  With  a  gesture. 

I  sha'n't  say  how ! 


FAUST. 


Shame  on  thee ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  that  shocks  you !     You  have  so 
Much  right  with  moral  horror  to  cry  shame ! 
One  must  not  dare  to  squeamish  ears  to  name 
What,  natheless,  squeamish  hearts  will  not  forego. 
Well,  well,  I  grudge  you  not  the  satisfaction 
Of  lying  to  yourself  upon  occasion : 
That  sort  of  thing  soon  loses  its  attraction ; 
You'll  tire  of  it,  and  without  my  persuasion. 
To  your  old  whims  you're  falling  back  again, 
And  'tis  most  certain,  if  I  let  you, 
They'll  into  madness  lash  your  brain, 
Or  into  horrors  and  blue-devils  fret  you. 
Enough  of  this !     At  home  your  darling  sits, 
And  all  with  her's  vacuity  and  sadness. 
She  cannot  get  you  from  her  mind.     Her  wit's 
Bewitched ;  she  dotes  on  you  to  madness. 
At  first  your  passion,  like  a  little  brook, 
Swollen  by  the  melted  snows,  all  barriers  overbore ; 
Into  her  heart  you've  poured  it  all,  and,  look ! 
That  little  brook  of  yours  is  dry  once  more. 
Methinks,  instead  of  playing  king 
Among  the  woods,  your  lordship  might 
Be  doing  better  to  requite 
The  poor  young  monkey's  hankering. 
Time  drags  with  her  so  sadly ;  she,  poor  wight, 


FAUST  165 

Stands  at  her  window,  marks  with  listless  eye 
The  clouds  o'er  the  old  city  walls  go  sweeping  by. 
"  Oh,  if  a  birdie  I  might  be  ! "     So  runs  her  song 
Half  through  the  night,  and  all  day  long ; 
One  while  she's  gay,  though  mostly  she's  downcast, 
At  other  times  she's  pumped  quite  dry  of  tears, 
Then  to  appearance  calm  again,  but  first  and  last 
In  love  o'er  head  and  ears. 


FAUST. 

Serpent !     Serpent ! 

mephistopheles  (aside). 

Oh,  I  bear  you  ! 
So  that  only  I  ensnare  you  ! 

FAUST. 

Out  of  my  sight !     Accursed  thing  ! 
Dare  not  to  name  her  !     Nor  before 
My  half-distracted  senses  bring 
Desire  for  her  sweet  body  more ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What's  to  be  done  ?     She  thinks  you  gone  for  ever ! 
And  in  a  manner  so  you  are. 

FAUST. 

I'm  near  her,  ay,  but  were  I  ne'er  so  far, 
I  never  can  forget,  can  lose  her  never. 
I  envy  even  the  Host  itself,  whene'er 
'Tis  touched  by  those  sweet  lips  of  hers  ! 


I 66  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Indeed  ! 
Well,  friend,  I've  often  envied  you  the  pair 
Of  dainty  twins  that  midst  the  roses  feed. 

FAUST. 

Hence,  pimp .' 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  rare  !     You  rail,  and  I  must  laugh. 
The  God  who  fashioned  lad  and  wench 
Knew  what  He  meant  too  well  by  half, 
His  noble  purpose  not  to  clench 
By  fashioning  occasion  due 
For  bringing  them  together,  too. 
Away !     Tis  such  a  cruel  case  ! 
'Tis  to  your  mistress'  chamber,  man,  you  go, 
And  not,  methinks,  to  your  undoing. 

FAUST. 

What  were  heaven's  bliss  itself  in  her  embrace  ? 

Though  on  her  bosom  I  should  glow, 

Must  I  not  feel  her  pangs,  her  ruin  ? 

What  am  I  but  an  outcast,  without  home, 

Or  human  tie,  or  aim,  or  resting-place, 

That  like  a  torrent  raved  along  in  foam, 

From  rock  to  rock,  with  ravening  fury  wild, 

On  to  the  brink  of  the  abyss  ?     And  she, 

In  unsuspecting  innocence  a  child, 

Hard  by  that  torrent's  banks,  in  tiny  cot, 

Upon  her  little  patch  of  mountain  lea, 

With  all  her  homely  joys  and  cares,  begot 

And  bounded  in  that  little  world ! 

And  I,  the  abhorred  of  God,  — 'twas  not 

Enough  that  down  with  me  I  whirled 

The  rifted  rocks,  and  shattered  them !     I  must 


FAUST  167 

Drag  her,  her  and  her  peace,  into  the  dust ! 
Thou,  Hell,  must  have  this  sacrifice  perforce ! 
Help,  devil,  then,  to  abridge  my  torturing  throes. 
Let  that  which  must  be  swiftly  take  its  course, 
Bring  her  doom  down  on  me,  to  crown  my  woes, 
And  o'er  us  both  one  whelming  ruin  close ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ho,  up  at  boiling  point  again ! 

Get  in,  fool,  and  console  her !     When 

Such  silly  pates  no  outlet  can  descry, 

They  think  the  very  crash  of  doom  is  nigh. 

Give  me  the  man  that  on  will  go, 

Not  to  be  swayed  or  shaken  from  his  level ! 

And  yet  at  other  times  you  show 

A  tolerable  spice,  too,  of  the  devil. 

Go  to !     The  devil  that  despairs  I  deem 

Of  all  poor  creatures  poor  in  the  extreme. 


Scene  VIII.  —  Margaret's  Room. 

Margaret  {at  her  spinning-wheel,  alone). 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore ; 
'Tis  gone  for  ever 

And  evermore. 

Where  he  is  not, 

Is  the  grave  to  me, 
The  whole  world's  changed, 

Ah,  bitterly. 

I  sit  and  I  ponder 
One  only  thought, 


168  FAUST 

My  senses  wander, 
My  brain's  distraught. 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore ; 
Tis  gone  for  ever 

And  evermore. 

From  my  window  to  greet  him 

I  gaze  all  day, 
I  stir  out,  if  meet  him 

I  only  may. 

His  noble  form, 

His  bearing  high, 
His  mouth's  sweet  smile, 

His  mastering  eye ; 

And  the  magic  flow 
Of  his  talk,  the  bliss 

In  the  clasp  of  his  hand, 
And  oh  !  his  kiss ! 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore ; 
'Tis  gone  for  ever 

And  evermore. 

For  him  doth  my  bosom 

Cry  out  and  pine  ; 
Oh,  if  I  might  clasp  him, 

And  keep  him  mine ! 

And  kiss  him,  kiss  him, 

As  fain  would  I, 
I'd  faint  on  his  kisses, 

Yes,  faint  and  die  I 


FAUST  169 


Scene  IX.  —  Maktha's   Garden. 

Margaret,  Faust. 

margaret. 
Promise  me,  Henry ! 

FAUST. 

What  I  can,  I  will. 

MARGARET. 

How  do  you  stand  about  religion,  say  ? 

You  are  a  thoroughly  good  man,  but  still 

I  fear  you  don't  think  much  about  it  anyway. 

FAUST. 

Hush,  hush,  my  child  !     You  feel  I  love  you,  —  good  ! 
For  those  I  love  could  lay  down  life,  and  would. 
No  man  would  I  of  creed  or  church  bereave. 

MARGARET. 

That  is  not  right ;  we  must  ourselves  believe. 

FAUST. 

Must  we  ? 

MARGARET. 

Ah  !  could  I  but  persuade  you,  dear  1 
You  do  not  even  the  sacraments  revere. 

FAUST. 

Eevere  I  do. 


170  FAUST 

MAKGAKET. 

But  seek  them  not,  alas ! 
For  long  you've  never  gone  to  shrift  or  mass. 
Do  you  believe  in  God  ? 

FAUST. 

Love,  who  dare  say 
I  do  believe  in  God  ?     You  may 
Ask  priest  or  sage,  and  their  reply 
Will  only  seem  to  mystify, 
And  mock  you. 

MAKGAKET. 

Then  you  don't  believe  ? 

FAUST. 

My  meaning,  darling,  do  not  misconceive. 

Him  who  dare  name  ? 

Or  who  proclaim, 

Him  I  believe  ? 

Who  feel, 

Yet  steel 

Himself  to  say,  Him  I  do  not  believe  ? 

The  All-Embracer, 

The  All-Sustainer, 

Embraces  and  sustains  He  not 

Thee,  me,  Himself  ? 

Rears  not  the  heaven  its  arch  above  ? 

Doth  not  the  firm-set  earth  beneath  us  lie  ? 

And  with  the  tender  gaze  of  love 

Climb  not  the  everlasting  stars  on  high  ? 

Do  I  not  gaze  upon  thee,  eye  to  eye  ? 

And  all  the  world  of  sight  and  sense  and  sound, 

Bears  it  not  in  upon  thy  heart  and  brain, 

And  mystically  weave  around 

Thy  being  influences  that  never  wain  ? 


FAUST  171 

Fill  thy  heart  thence  even  unto  overflowing, 

And  when  with  thrill  ecstatic  thou  art  glowing, 

Then  call  it  whatsoe'er  thou  wilt, 

Bliss!     Heart!    Love!     God! 

Name  for  it  have  I  none ! 

Feeling  is  all  in  all ; 

Name  is  but  sound  and  smoke, 

Shrouding  heaven's  golden  glow  ! 

MAEGAEET. 

All  this  is  beautiful  and  good ;  just  so 
The  priest,  too,  speaks  to  us  at  times, 
In  words,  though,  somewhat  different. 

FAUST. 

So  speak  the  hearts  of  all  men  in  all  climes, 

O'er  which  the  blessed  sky  is  bent, 

On  which  the  blessed  light  of  heaven  doth  shine. 

Each  in  a  language  that  is  his ; 

Then  why  not  I  in  mine  ? 

MARGARET. 

To  hear  you  speak,  it  looks  not  much  amiss, 
But  still  there's  something,  love,  about  it  wrong; 
For  Christian  you  are  not,  I  see. 

FAUST. 

Dear  child ! 

MARGARET. 

My  heart  has  ached  for  long, 
To  see  you  in  such  company. 

FAUST. 

How  so  ? 


172  FAUST 

MARGAKET. 

The  man  that  is  your  mate 
Wakes  in  my  inmost  soul  the  deepest  hate. 
In  all  my  life  not  anything 
Has  given  my  heart  so  sharp  a  sting 
As  that  man's  loathsome  visage  grim. 


FAUST. 

Nay,  dearest,  have  no  fear  of  him. 

MARGARET. 

His  presence  makes  my  blood  congeal. 

Kindly  to  all  men  else  I  feel ; 

But  howsoe'er  for  you  I  long, 

From  that  man  with  strange  dread  I  shrink ; 

That  he's  a  knave  I  needs  must  think. 

God  pardon  me,  if  I  do  him  wrong ! 

FAUST. 

Such  odd  fish  there  must  always  be. 


MARGARET. 

I  would  not  live  with  such  as  he. 

Whenever  he  comes,  he's  sure  to  peer 

In  at  the  door  with  such  a  sneer, 

Half  angry-like  with  me. 

That  he  in  no  one  thing  takes  part,  is  clear ; 

On  his  brow  'tis  written,  as  on  a  scroll, 

That  he  can  love  no  human  soul. 

I  feel  so  happy  within  thy  arms, 

So  free,  so  glowing,  so  fearless  of  harms, 

But  in  his  presence  my  heart  shuts  to. 


FAUST  173 

FAUST. 

You  sweet,  foreboding  angel,  you ! 

MARGARET. 

It  masters  me  in  such  a  way, 

I  even  think,  when  he  comes  near, 

That  I  no  longer  love  you,  dear. 

If  he  were  by,  I  never  could  pray, 

And  that  eats  into  my  heart ;  you,  too, 

Must  feel,  my  Henry,  as  I  do. 

FAUST. 

'Tis  mere  antipathy  you  bear. 

MARGARET. 

Now  I  must  go. 

FAUST. 

Oh,  can  I  ne'er 
Hang  one  short  hour  in  quiet  on  thy  breast, 
Bosom  by  bosom,  soul  in  soul  caressed  ? 

MARGARET. 

Ah,  if  I  only  slept  alone  !     To-night 
I'd  leave  the  door  upon  the  latch,  I  would. 
But  mother  sleeps  so  very  light, 
And,  were  we  caught  by  her,  I  should 
Drop  dead  upon  the  spot,  I  vow. 

FAUST. 

She  need  not  know,  thou  angel,  thou  \ 
Here  is  a  phial !     Let  her  but  take 
Three  drops  of  this,  and  it  will  steep 
Nature  in  deep  and  pleasing  sleep. 


174  FAUST 

MARGARET. 

What  would  I  not  do  for  thy  sake  ? 
Thou'rt  sure  it  will  not  do  her  harm  ? 

FAUST. 

Would  I  advise  it,  else  ? 

MARGARET. 

There's  some  strange  charm, 
When  I  but  look  on  you,  that  still 
Constrains  me,  love,  to  do  your  will. 
I  have  already  done  so  much  for  you, 
That  scarce  aught  else  is  left  for  me  to  do.    [Exit. 

Enter  Mephistopheles. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  silly  ape !     Is't  gone  ? 

FAUST. 

So,  then, 
Thou  hast  been  playing  spy  again  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  heard  distinctly  all  that  passed. 

You  had,  sir  doctor,  first  and  last, 

A  stiffish  dose  of  catechising. 

I'm  sure,  I  hope  'twill  do  you  good ! 

It  certainly  is  not  surprising 

These  silly-pated  wenches  should 

Be  always  anxious  to  discover 

If  in  his  prayers  and  pace  their  lover 

Jogs  on  the  good  old  humdrum  way. 
"  If  pliable  in  that,"  think  they, 
"  Us  too  he'll  placidly  obey." 


FAUST  175 


FAUST. 


Thou  monster,  thou  dost  not  perceive 

How  such  a  loving  faithful  soul, 

Full  of  her  faith,  which  is 

To  her  the  one  sole  pledge  of  endless  bliss, 

Is  racked  by  pious  anguish,  to  believe 

Him  that  she  dotes  on  doomed  to  everlasting  dole. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thou  supersensual  sensualist,  a  flirt, 
A  doll,  a  dowdy,  leads  thee  by  the  nose. 


FAUST. 

Thou  vile  abortion  thou  of  fire  and  dirt ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  skill  in  physiognomy  she  shows ! 
She  turns,  she  can't  tell  how,  when  I  am  present; 
This  little  mask  of  mine,  it  seems,  reveals 
Meanings  concealed,  but  certainly  unpleasant ; 
That  I'm  a  genius,  past  mistake  she  feels : 
The  devil's  self,  perhaps,  for  aught  she  knows. 
Well,  well,  to-night ! 

FAUST. 

What's  that  to  you  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oho !     In  that  I  have  my  pleasure,  too. 


176  FAUST 

ACT   IV. 

Scene  I.  —  At  the   Well. 
Margaeet  and  Bessy  with  pitchers. 

BESSY. 

What !  Barbara  ?     Not  heard  the  news  of  her  ? 

MARGARET. 

Not  I.     Across  the  door  I  rarely  stir. 

BESSY. 

Oh,  never  doubt  it ! 
To-day  Sibylla  told  me  all  about  it ! 
She's  made  a  rare  fool  of  herself  at  last. 
This  comes  of  her  fine  airs  and  flighty  jinks ! 

MARGARET. 

How  so  ? 

BESSY. 

It  won't  keep  down.     That's  long,  long  past. 
She  feeds  for  two  now,  when  she  eats  and  drinks. 

MARGARET. 

Alas! 

BESSY. 

She's  rightly  served,  the  jade ! 
For  all  the  fuss  she  with  the  fellow  made  i 


FAUST  177 

Such  gadding  here,  such  gadding  there, 

At  village  wake,  at  dance,  and  fair ; 

Must  be  first  fiddle,  too,  everywhere ; 

He  was  treating  her  always  with  tarts  and  wine ; 

Set  up  for  a  beauty,  she  did,  so  fine, 

And  yet  was  so  mean,  and  so  lost  to  shame, 

She  took  his  presents,  though,  all  the  same. 

And  then  the  hugging,  and  the  kissing ! 

So  the  upshot  is,  her  rose  is  missing. 


MAKGARET. 

Poor  thing  ! 

BESSY. 

What !     Pity  her,  and  her  sinning ! 
When  any  of  us  was  at  the  spinning, 
Mother  kept  us  indoors  after  dark. 
But  she  was  so  sweet  upon  her  spark, 
On  the  bench  by  the  door,  and  in  the  dark  walk, 
No  hour  was  too  long  for  their  toying  and  talk. 
So  her  fine  fal-lals  now  my  lady  may  dock, 
And  do  penance  at  church  in  the  sinner's  smock. 

MARGARET. 

But  he  will  make  her  his  wife,  of  course ! 


BESSY. 

A  fool  if  he  did !     A  lad  of  mettle 

Can  have  lots  of  choice,  or  ever  he  settle. 

Besides,  he's  off. 

MARGARET. 

How  could  he  do  it  ? 


178  FAUST 

BESSY. 

If  she  should  get  him,  she's  sure  to  rue  it. 

The  boys  will  tear  her  garland,  and  we 

Strew  chopped  straw  at  her  door,  you'll  see.    \Exit. 

Margaret   (going  home). 

What  railing  once  rose  to  my  lip, 

If  any  poor  girl  made  a  slip ! 

My  tongue  hard  words  could  scarcely  frame 

Enough  to  brand  another's  shame. 

It  looked  so  black,  that  blacken  it 

Howe'er  I  might,  they  seemed  unfit 

To  stamp  its  blackness  infinite. 

I  blessed  myself  and  my  nose  uptossed, 

And  now  I,  too,  in  sin  am  lost. 

And  yet,  —  and  yet,  —  alas  !  the  cause, 

God  knows,  so  good,  so  dear,  it  was ! 

Scene   II.  —  Zwinger. 

In  the  niche  of  the  wall  a  devotional  image  of  the  Mater 
Dolorosa,  and  in  front  of  it  pots  of  flowers. 

MARGARET  (placing  fresh  flowers  in  the  pots). 

Oh,  thou,  the  sorest 

Pangs  that  borest, 

On  mine  look  down  with  face  benign ! 

With  anguish  eying 

Thy  dear  Son  dying, 

The  sword  that  pierced  His  heart  in  thine. 

Thou  to  the  Father  gazest, 

And  sighs  upraisest, 

For  His  and  for   thy  mortal  pine. 


'And  now,  I,  too,  in  sin  am  lost" 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  A.  Liezen  Meyer 


— -r  ■■■-■■:■  .-:-■-—  ■'■■:■■:-.  ■:;;■-■.  ■   .--■<-,..- -/Kfc 


FAUST  179 

Oh,  who  can  feel,  as  thou, 

Thy  agony,  that  now 

Tears  me  and  wears  me  to  the  bone ! 

How  this  poor  heart  is  choked  with  tears, 

All  that  it  yearns  for,  all  it  fears, 

Thou  knowest,  thou,  and  thou  alone ! 

Still  wheresoe'er  I  go, 

What  woe,  what  woe,  what  woe 

Is  in  my  bosom  aching  ! 

When  to  my  room  I  creep, 

I  weep,  I  weep,  I  weep ; 

My  heart  is  breaking. 

The  bow-pots  at  my  window 
I  with  my  tears  bedewed, 
When  over  them  at  morn,  to  pluck 
These  flowers  for  thee,  I  stood. 

Brightly  into  my  chamber  shone 
The  sun,  when  dawn  grew  red ; 
Already  there,  all  woebegone, 
I  sat  upon  my  bed. 

Help,  sufferer  divine  ! 

Save  me,  oh,  save 

From  shame  and  from  the  grave ! 

And  thou,  the  sorest 

Pangs  that  borest, 

On  mine  look  down  with  countenance  benign ! 


180  FAUST 

Scene  III.  —  Night. 
Street  in  front  of  Margaket's  door. 

VALENTINE. 

At  drinking-bouts,  when  tongues  will  wag, 

And  many  are  given  to  boast  and  brag, 

When  praises  of  their  own  pet  dears 

Were  dinned  by  comrades  in  my  ears, 

And  drowned  in  bumpers,  I  was  able, 

My  elbow  planted  on  the  table, 

To  bide  my  time,  and  calmly  stayed, 

Listening  to  all  their  gasconade. 

Then  with  a  smile  my  beard  I'd  stroke, 

And  take  a  full  glass  in  my  hand  ; 
"  Each  to  his  fancy  !  "  up  I  spoke, 
"  But  who  is  there  in  all  the  land 

To  match  with  my  dear  Gretel,  —  who 

Is  fit  to  tie  my  sister's  shoe  ? " 

All  round  the  room  there  went  a  hum, 

Hob,  nob !  Kling  !  Klang  !  "  He's  right ! "  they  cried. 
"  Of  her  whole  sex  she  is  the  pride." 

Then  all  the  boasters,  they  sat  dumb. 

And  now  —  oh,  I  could  tear  my  hair, 

And  dash  my  brains  out  in  despair !  — 

Now  every  knave  will  think  he's  free 

To  have  his  gibe  and  sneer  at  me ! 

And,  like  a  bankrupt  debtor,  I 

At  each  chance  word  must  sit  and  fry. 

Smash  them  all  up  I  might :  what  though  ? 

I  could  not  call  them  liars,  —  no  ! 

What's  here  ?     Ha  !  skulking  out  of  view  ? 
If  I  mistake  not,  there  are  two. 
If  it  be  he,  at  Mm  I'll  drive ; 
He  shall  not  quit  this  spot  alive ! 


FAUST  181 

Enter  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 

faust. 

How  from  the  window  of  yon  sacristy 
The  little  lamp's  undying  flame  doth  glimmer, 
While  at  the  sides  it  flickers  dim  and  dimmer, 
And  thicks  the  darkness  round !     Ah,  me  ! 
Such  midnight  is  it  in  my  breast. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  I  feel  like  a  tom-cat,  love  distressed, 
That  up  fire-ladders  slily  crawls, 
And  steals  on  tiptoe  round  the  walls ; 
I  burn  with  quite  a  virtuous  glow, 
Half  thievish  joy,  half  concupiscence,  so 
Does  the  superb  Walpurgis  Night 
Already  thrill  me  with  delight. 
Just  one  night  more,  'tis  here,  and  then 
One  gets  some  real  fun  again. 

FAUST. 

Look !     What  is  that  is  glimmering  there  ? 
The  treasure  rising  to  the  upper  air  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thou  shalt  ere  long  the  pleasure  test 
Of  digging  up  the  little  chest. 
I  took  a  squint  at  it  to-night. 
Such  lion-dollars  broad  and  bright ! 

FAUST. 

How !     Not  a  trinket  ?     Not  a  ring, 
To  deck  her  out,  my  love,  my  sweet  ? 


I 82  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  think  I  saw  with  them  a  string 
Of  pearls,  or  something  just  as  neat. 

FAUST. 

'Tis  well !     It  vexes  me  to  go 
To  her  without  some  gift  to  show. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  not  a  thing  to  feel  dismay  for, 

To  have  some  pleasure  you  don't  pay  for ! 

Now  heaven  with  stars  is  all  aglow. 

A  genuine  tidbit  you  shall  hear ; 

A  moral  song  I'll  sing  her,  so 

More  thoroughly  to  befool  the  dear. 

(Sings  to  the  lute.) 

Katrina,  say, 

What  makes  you  stay, 

Ere  dawn  of  day, 

Before  your  sweetheart's  door  so  ? 

Away,  away ! 

The  springald  gay 

Lets  in  a  May, 

Goes  out  a  May  no  more  so ! 

"Walk  still  upright ! 

If  once  you're  light, 

Why  then,  Good-night ! 

Poor  things,  'twill  ill  bestead  you. 

Refrain,  refrain ! 

Let  no  false  swain 

Your  jewel  gain, 

Till  with  the  ring  he  wed  you  ! 


FAUST  183 

valentine  {coming  forward). 

For  whom  are  you  caterwauling  ?     Curst 
Katcatcher  you  !     Out,  trusty  whinger  ! 
To  the  devil  with  the  jingler  first, 
Then  packing  after  it  send  the  singer ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  lute  is  cracked  !     'Tis  ruined  for  the  nonce. 

VALENTINE. 

Have  at  you  !     Now  to  crack  your  sconce  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    {to  FAUST). 

Tackle  him,  doctor  !     Courage,  hey  ! 
Stick  close,  and,  as  I  bid  you,  do. 
Out  with  your  duster !     Thrust  away  ! 
I'll  do  the  parrying  for  you. 

VALENTINE. 

Then  parry  that ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  wherefore  not  ? 

VALENTINE. 

That  too ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 
Just  SO. 

VALENTINE. 

I'd  swear  the  devil  fought ! 
What  say  you,  then,  to  that  ?     My  hand's  benumbed. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    {to  FAUST). 

Thrust  home  ! 


184  FAUST 

VALENTINE. 
Oh,  Oh  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  bumpkin  has  succumbed. 
Let  us  be  off !     We  must  evaporate  ! 
The  hue  and  cry  is  up  !     Hark  !     What  a  clatter ! 
With  the  police  I  might  make  things  all  straight, 
But  with  the  courts  'tis  quite  another  matter ! 

\Exeunt. 
martha  (at  window). 

Help !     Murder ! 

Margaret  (at  window). 

Help !     A  light !     A  light ! 

MARTHA  (as  he  fore). 
They  brawl  and  scuffle,  shout  and  fight. 

people. 
Here's  one  of  them  already  dead. 

martha  (coming  out). 
The  murdering  villains !     Have  they  fled  ? 

Margaret  (coming  out). 
Who's  this,  lies  here  ? 

PEOPLE. 

Your  mother's  son. 

MARGARET. 

Almighty  God  !     I  am  undone. 


FAUST  185 

VALENTINE. 

I'm  dying !     Sooner  done  than  said. 

Why,  women,  why  do  ye 

Stand  howling,  whimpering  there  ?     I'm  sped  ! 

Come  close,  and  list  to  me  ! 

[All  come  round  him. 
Look,  Gretchen  !     You're  but  young,  —  by  far 
Too  shy  and  simple  yet !     You  are 
A  bungler  in  your  trade. 
Soft  in  your  ear  a  friendly  hint ! 
You  are  a  whore ;  so  never  stint, 
But  be  right  out  a  jade. 

MARGARET. 

Brother  !     Great  God  !     What  mean  you  ? 


VALENTINE. 

Out  of  your  antics  leave  God's  name ! 
What's  done,  alas  the  day  !  is  done, 
And  you  must  run  the  course  of  sin. 
You  on  the  sly  begin  with  one, 
But  several  soon  come  trooping  in, 
And,  once  you  to  a  dozen  fall  so, 
Soon  all  the  town  will  have  you  also ! 

When  shame  is  born,  she's  to  the  light 
Brought  stealthily  'mid  grief  and  fears, 
And  she  is  in  the  veil  of  night 
Wrapped  over  head  and  ears. 
Yea,  folks  would  kill  her  an'  they  might, 
But  grown,  as  grow  she  will  apace, 
She  flaunts  it  in  the  broad  daylight, 
And  yet  she  wears  no  fairer  face. 
Nay,  it  grows  uglier  every  way, 
The  more  she  seeks  the  light  of  day. 


Shame ! 


186  FAUST 

I  see  the  time  —  'tis  coming  —  when 

Each  honest-hearted  citizen, 

As  from  a  plague-infected  corpse, 

Will  turn  aside  from  thee,  thou  whore ! 

Thy  heart  will  fail  thee  with  remorse, 

When  people  look  thee  in  the  face. 

No  more  thou'lt  wear  a  golden  chain ; 

Nor  stand  in  church  by  the  altar  floor, 

Nor  in  a  collar  of  dainty  lace 

Shine  foremost  at  the  dance  again. 

In  some  dark  wretched  nook  thou'lt  hide, 

With  cripples  and  beggars  and  nought  beside ; 

And  even  though  God  forgiveness  grant  thee, 

My  curse  upon  the  earth  will  haunt  thee ! 

MARTHA. 

Commend  your  soul  to  God !     Would  you 
Lay  on  it  the  sin  of  slander,  too  ? 

VALENTINE. 

Thou  shameless  bawd,  could  I  but  smite 
Thy  wizened  carcass,  then  I  might 
For  all  my  sins  of  every  kind 
Full  absolution  hope  to  find. 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  brother !     Rack  me  not,  oh,  pray ! 

VALENTINE. 

Have  done  with  tears  !     Have  done,  I  say ! 
To  honour  when  you  bade  farewell, 
You  dealt  my  heart  its  heaviest  blow. 
Now  like  a  soldier,  stout  and  fell, 
Through  Death's  long  sleep  to  God  I  go. 


FAUST  187 

Scene    IV.  —  Cathedral. 

Service,  Organ,  and  Anthem. 

Margaret  amongst  a  number  of  people.     Evil  Spirit 

behind  her. 

evil  spirit. 

How  different,  Margaret,  was't  with  thee, 

When  thou,  still,  still  all  innocence, 

Camest  to  the  altar  here, 

And  from  the  well-thumbed  little  book 

Didst  prattle  prayers  that  were 

Half  childish  playfulness, 

Half  God  within  the  heart. 

Margaret ! 

How  is  it  with  thy  head  ? 

Within  thy  heart 

What  guiltiness  ? 

Art  praying  for  thy  mother's  soul,  that  slept 

Away  to  long,  long  agomes  through  thee  ? 

Upon  thy  threshold  whose  the  blood  ?  — 

And  'ueath  thy  heart  stirs  not 

What  now  is  quickening  there, 

And  with  its  boding  presence  racks 

Itself  and  thee  ? 

MARGARET. 

Woe !     Woe ! 

Oh,  could  I  rid  me  of  the  thoughts 

That,  spite  of  me, 

Come  rushing  o'er  my  brain  ! 

CHOIR. 

Dies  irm,  dies  ilia 

Solvet  sceclum  in  favilla  !  [Organ  plays. 


1 88  FAUST 


EVIL    SPIRIT. 


Horror  lays  hold  on  thee ! 
The  judgment-trumpet  sounds  ! 
The  graves  rock  to  and  fro ! 
And  thy  heart,  from 
Its  ashy  rest, 
Incorporate  anew 
For  fiery  pangs, 
Shudders  into  life ! 

MARGARET. 

Would  I  were  out  of  this  ! 
I  feel  as  though 
The  organ  choked  my  breath, 
As  though  the  anthem  drew 
The  life-blood  from  my  heart ! 

CHOIR. 

Judex  ergo  cam  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  adparcbit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

MARGARET. 

It  feels  so  close  ! 

The  pillars  of  the  wall 

Press  in  upon  me, 

The  arches  of  the  roof 

They  weigh  me  down  !  —  Air  ! 

EVIL    SPIRIT. 

Hide  thyself !     Sin  and  shame 
Will  not  be  hidden.  — 
Air  ?     Light  ? 
Woe  to  thee ! 


FAUST  189 

CHOIR. 

Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus  ? 
Quern  patronum  rogaturus  ? 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus  ? 

EVIL    SPIRIT. 

From  thee  the  saints  in  bliss 
Their  faces  turn  away. 
To  reach  their  hands  to  thee 
Makes  the  pure  shudder !     Woe  ! 

CHOIR. 

Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus  ? 

MARGARET. 

Neighbour !     Your  smelling-bottle ! 


[Swoons. 


Scene    V.  —  Walpurgis  Night. 

The  Harz  Mountains.     District  of  Schirke  and  Mend. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

mephistopheles. 

Do  you  not  wish  you  had  a  broomstick,  friend  ? 
Oh,  for  a  he-goat,  rough,  and  tough,  and  strong ! 
We're  still  a  long  way  from  our  journey's  end. 

FAUST. 

This  knotted  staffs  enough  for  me,  so  long 
As  I  feel  fresh  upon  my  legs.     What  boots 
To  cut  our  journey  short,  howe'er  it  lags  ? 
To  thread  this  maze  of  valleys  all  at  rest, 


190  FAUST 

And  then  to  clamber  up  to  yonder  crags, 
From  which  the  fountain  ever-babbling  shoots, 
Tis  this  which  gives  our  journey  all  its  zest. 
The  birchen  spray  is  kindling  with  the  spring, 
And  even  the  dull  pines  feel  its  quickening ; 
Shall  it  not  also  make  our  liinbs  more  brisk  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Of  that  I  feel  no  trace,  nor  will. 

My  body  is  all  winter-chill. 

Would  that  our  path  lay  over  frost  and  snow ! 

How  sadly  the  red  moon's  imperfect  disk 

Moves  up  the  sky  with  her  belated  glow, 

And  gives  so  bad  a  light  that  we  run  bump 

At  every  step  against  some  rock  or  stump ! 

By  your  permission,  I  will  hail 

A  Will-o'-Wisp.     Out  there  I  see 

One  burning  merrily.      So  ho, 

My  friend  !     Will  you  before  us  sail  ? 

Why  will  you  waste  your  lustre  so  ? 

Pray  be  so  kind  as  light  us  upward  here. 

will  -  o'  -  WISP. 

Out  of  respect  I'll  struggle  to  repress, 
And  hope  I  may,  my  natural  flightiness. 
A  zigzag  course  we're  rather  apt  to  steer. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ha,  ha !     He  fain  would  imitate  mankind. 
Hold,  in  the  devil's  name,  straight  on,  or,  mind, 
I'll  blow  your  flickering  light  out ! 

will  -  0'  -  WISP. 

'Twould  appear 
That  you  are  master  of  the  household  here, 


FAUST  191 

So  I'll  essay  to  do  your  bidding  rightly. 
But  mind  !  the  mountain's  magic-mad  to-day, 
And  if  a  Will-o'- Wisp's  to  light  the  way, 
You  must  not  deal  with  him  too  tightly. 

FAUST,    MEPHISTOPHELES,    and   WILL  -  O'  -  WISP. 

(In  alternating  song.) 

Now  we're  in  the  sphere,  I  deem, 

Of  enchantment  and  of  dream. 

Lead  us  on,  thou  meteor-gleam, 

Lead  us  rightly,  and  apace, 

To  the  deserts  vast  of  space ! 

See,  only  see,  tree  after  tree, 

How  thick  and  swift  behind  they  drift, 

And  crag  and  clift  make  mop  and  mow. 

And  the  long-snouted  crags  below, 

Hark,  how  they  snort,  and  how  they  blow ! 

Over  moss  and  over  stone, 
Brook  and  brooklet  race  along. 
What  noise  is  that,  around,  above  ? 
Hark,  again  !     The  sounds  of  song, 
Lovers  lamenting  and  making  moan, 
Loosing  their  laden  hearts  in  sighs, 
Voices  we  knew  in  the  days  that  are  flown, 
When  to  live  and  to  love  were  paradise  ? 
All  that  we  hope  for,  all  that  we  love, 
Throbs  in  the  heart  and  thrills  in  the  brain, 
And  fabling  Echo,  like  the  tale 
Of  olden  times,  o'er  hill  and  dale 
Reiterates  the  strain  ! 

Tu-whit !     Tu-whoo !     More  near,  more  near ! 
The  jargon  rises  shrill  and  clear. 
The  owl,  the  pewit,  and  the  jay, 
All  awake  and  abroad  are  they  ? 


192  FAUST 

Be  these  salamanders  there, 

Long  of  leg  and  huge  of  paunch, 

That  go  striding  through  the  brakes  ? 

Lo,  the  great  roots,  gaunt  and  bare, 

How  from  rock  and  bank  they  branch ! 

Wreathed  like  intertangling  snakes, 

In  coils  fantastic,  through  the  air 

They  stretch  to  scare  and  to  ensnare  us, 

From  wart-like  knots,  with  life  instinct, 

Darting  polyp-fibres,  linked 

To  enmesh  and  overbear  us  ! 

And  see !  the  mice  of  every  hue, 

How  they  hustle,  and  how  they  speed, 

Through  the  moss  and  through  the  heather  ! 

Up  and  down  the  fireflies,  too, 

Flit  and  flicker,  thronged  together, 

To  bewilder  and  mislead  ! 

But  what  means  this  glamour  ?     Say, 

Which  is  moving,  we  or  they  ? 

All  about  us  seems  to  spin, 

Rocks  and  trees,  that  gape  and  grin, 

And  Will-o'- Wisps,  that,  low  and  high, 

Flare,  and  flash,  and  multiply. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Grasp  my  skirt,  and  hold  it  tight, 
Here's  a  central  peak,  where  we 
May  with  eyes  of  wonder  see 
The  mountain  all  with  Mammon  bright. 

FAUST. 

Through  chasm  and  cleft  how  strangely  gleams 
A  dull  red  light  as  of  the  dawn  ! 
Down  to  the  very  depths  it  streams, 
Where  gloomiest  abysses  yawn. 


FAUST  193 


There  clouds  and  exhalations  rise, 
Here  from  the  mists  light  glimmers  soft, 
Now  like  fine  threads  it  winds  and  plies, 
Then  like  a  fountain  leaps  aloft. 
Here  in  a  hundred  veins  it  coils, 
For  many  a  rood,  the  valley  through, 
There,  shut  within  yon  gorge's  toils, 
In  sparkles  scatters  out  of  view. 
Near  us,  like  sprinkled  sand  of  gold, 
Are  flame-sparks  strewn  upon  the  air, 
And  now,  through  all  its  height,  behold, 
The  wall  of  rocks  is  kindling  there  ! 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


Doth  not  Sir  Mammon  rarely  light 
His  halls  up  for  our  sports  to-night  ? 
Lucky  you've  seen  it !     I  can  hear, 
Even  now,  his  boisterous  guests  are  near. 

FAUST. 

How  through  the  air  the  storm-blast  raves  and  hisses ! 
It  smites  my  neck,  shock  after  shock. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You'll  have  to  clutch  the  old  ribs  of  the  rock, 

Or  it  will  hurl  you  down  to  yon  abysses. 

O'er  the  midnight  a  thick  mist  broods. 

Hark  to  the  crashing  through  the  woods ! 

To  and  fro,  the  boughs  between, 

The  affrighted  owlets  flit. 

Hark,  the  columns,  how  they  split, 

Of  the  palaces  evergreen  ! 

Hear  the  branches  straining,  snapping, 

The  giant  tree-stems'  mighty  moaning, 

The  huge  roots  yawning,  creaking,  groaning ; 


194  FAUST 

Each  across  the  other  clapping, 

Down  they  crash,  and  thunder  all, 

In  mad  and  intertangled  fall : 

And  through  the  cliffs  with  ruin  strewn 

The  wild  winds  whiz,  and  howl,  and  moan. 

Voices  o'er  us  dost  thou  hear  ? 

Voices  far,  and  voices  near  ? 

All  the  mountain-range  along 

Streams  a  raving  witches'  song. 

witches  (in  chorus). 

The  witches  are  for  the  Brocken  bound,  — 
The  stubble  is  yellow,  the  blade  is  green,  — 
There  shall  a  mighty  throng  be  found, 
Sir  Urian  seated  aloft  between. 
Eight  over  stock  and  stone  they  go, 
Beldame  and  buck-goat,  hilloah,  hilloah ! 

A    VOICE. 

Old  Baubo  comes  alone  ;  astride 
A  farrow-sow  behold  her  ride ! 

CHORUS. 

To  whom  is  honour  due  be  honour ! 
Dame  Baubo,  advance,  and  lead  the  way! 
A  sturdy  sow,  with  a  dame  upon  her, 
Is  guide  full  meet  for  our  troop  so  gay. 

A    VOICE. 

What  road  came  you  by  ? 

A    VOICE. 

By  Ilsenstein. 
I  peeped,  as  I  passed  on  my  midnight  prowl, 


FAUST  195 


Into  the  nest  of  the  horned  owl ! 

And  didn't  she  open  her  eyes  on  mine  ? 


A    VOICE. 


To  hell  with  you,  old  wizen-face  ! 
Why  are  you  riding  at  such  a  pace  ? 


A    VOICE. 


She  grazed  me  as  she  passed.     Just  see, 
The  jade,  how  she  has  wounded  me ! 


WITCHES     CHORUS. 


The  way  is  wide,  the  way  is  long. 

Is  this  not  a  jolly  bedlam  throng  ? 

The  pitchfork  pricks,  and  the  broom  it  scratches, 

The  babe  is  stifled,  the  mother  she  hatches. 


WIZARDS.       HALF  -  CHORUS. 

We  crawl  like  snails ;  the  womenkind 
Have  left  us  far  and  far  behind ; 
For  woman,  when  to  hell  she  rides, 
Outstrips  us  by  a  thousand  strides. 


OTHER    HALF. 

That's  not  at  all  the  way  we  view  it. 
She  takes  a  thousand  strides  to  do  it. 
But,  post  howe'er  she  may,  the  man 
Does  it  at  once  in  a  single  span. 

A  VOICE  (above). 
From  Felsensee,  come  away,  come  away ! 


196  FAUST 

voices  (from  below). 

Up  through  the  sky  we  fain  would  fly. 

We've  washed,  and  we're  clean,  as  clean  may  be, 

But  barren  for  evermore  are  we. 

BOTH    CHORUSES. 

The  wind  is  down,  and  the  stars  are  flown, 
The  wan  moon  hides  her  woe-worn  face, 
Along  the  dark  shoot  flame  and  spark, 
To  mark  the  wizards'  roaring  chase. 

VOICE  (from  belovS). 
Hold  hard  !     Hold  hard  !     Behind  I'm  left. 

voice  (from  o.ho> 
Who  is  calling  there  from  the  rocky  cleft  ? 

a  voice  (from  below). 

Oh,  take  me  with  you  !     Three  hundred  year 
Have  I  been  climbing,  climbing  here, 
But  never  can  I  the  summit  gain. 
To  be  with  my  fellows  I  were  fain. 

BOTH    CHORUSES. 

Besom  and  broomstick,  he-goat  and  prong, 
All  are  good  to  whisk  you  along ; 
And  surely  the  wight  is  in  doleful  plight, 
Who  cannot  mount  in  the  air  to-night. 

demi -witch  (from  below). 

I've  been  tottering  after  this  many  a  day, 
And  the  rest  are  already  so  far  away ! 
No  peace  have  I  at  home,  and  here 
I'm  likely  to  light  on  no  better  cheer. 


FAUST  197 


CHORUS    OF   WITCHES. 


Tis  ointment  puts  heart  in  the  witches'  crew. 

Any  fluttering  rag  for  a  sail  will  do, 

Any  trough  make  a  stout  ship  to  scud   through  the 

sky, 
Who  flies  not  to-night,  he  will  never  fly. 


BOTH    CHORUSES. 

And  when  you  have  got  to  the  mountain's  crest, 
Drop  to  the  ground,  where  it  likes  you  best. 
And  cover  the  moorland  all  round  about 
With  the  weltering  swarm  of  your  wizard  rout ! 

[They  descend. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Here's  jamming,  jolting,  jabbering,  justling, 
Here's  whizzing,  whirling,  bubbling,  bustling  ! 
Here's  flashing,  sparkling,  stinking,  burning, 
All  things  topsy-turvy  turning  ! 
The  real  hurly-burly,  which  is 
Very  meat  and  drink  to  witches ! 
Stick  close  bv  me,  or  we  shall  be 
Swept  asunder  presently. 
Where  art  thou  ? 

faust  (in  the  distance). 
Here ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ha  !     Steady,  steady  ! 
What !  torn  away  so  far  already  ? 
Then  is  it  time  I  should  make  clear 
My  right  as  lord  and  master  here. 
Eoom  for  Sir  Voland,  room,  I  say ! 
My  most  sweet  people,  please  make  way ! 


198  FAUST 

Here,  doctor,  here,  take  hold  of  me, 

And  let  us  at  a  bound  get  free 

Of  this  wild  rabble,  and  its  din  there. 

'Tis  too  mad  even  for  such  as  I. 

There's  something  shining  there  hard  by, 

With  lustre  quite  peculiar.     Look  ! 

Yon  bushes  seem  a  quiet  nook. 

Come,  come  along !     Let  us  slip  in  there. 

FAUST. 

Spirit  of  contradiction !     Well,  well,  lead  the  way ! 
Yet  'tis  a  splendid  notion,  I  must  say ; 
To  Brocken  we  on  May-day  night  repair, 
So  keep  aloof  from  all,  when  we  get  there. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  many-coloured  flames !     Just  see, 

There  is  a  jovial  company  ! 

One's  not  alone,  however  few  the  folk. 

FAUST. 

Up  yonder  I  would  rather  be. 
Already  flames  and  whirling  smoke 
I  see  ascending,  and  the  throng 
That  to  the  Evil  Spirit's  lair 
Tumultuously  sweeps  along ! 
There  would  I  be,  for  surely  there 
Will  many  a  riddle  be  untied. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  many  a  riddle  be  knotted,  too. 

Let  the  great  world  go  brawling  on  !     Aside 

We'll  tarry  here  in  quiet  out  of  view. 

With  men  the  custom  is  of  ancient  date, 

To  make  themselves  small  worlds  within  the  great. 


FAUST  199 

Young  witches  yonder  I  espy, 

As  naked  as  their  mothers  bore  'em, 

And  old  ones,  too,  that,  wisely  shy, 

Have  veiled  their  charms  with  true  decorum. 

For  my  sake,  now,  be  civil  to  them  all. 

The  pastime's  great,  the  trouble  small. 

Hark  !     Instruments  a-tuning !     Curse 

Upon  their  blowing  and  their  scraping ! 

Come  on,  come  on !     There's  no  escaping 

We  must  submit,  or  suffer  worse. 

I'll  step  before  and  introduce  you  ;  so 

Will  under  further  obligation  lay  you. 

Look  here,  look  here,  my  friend  !     How  say  you  ? 

No  squeezed-up  shabby  ballroom  this,  no,  no ! 

Look  onward  there !     You  scarce  can  see  the  end. 

A  hundred  fires  are  burning,  row  on  row. 

They  dance,  they  chat,  cook,   drink,  make  love.     In 

short, 
Where,  let  me  ask,  will  you  find  better  sport  ? 

FAUST. 

Will  you,  in  ushering  us  into  their  revel, 
Present  yourself  as  wizard,  or  as  devil  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  general  rule's  to  play  incognito. 
On  gala-days,  however,  one  may  show 
One's  orders.     With  no  garter  am  I  decked, 
But  here  the  horse  hoof's  held  in  high  respect. 
Dost  see  yon  snail  come  crawliug  up  ?     'Tis  clear, 
Her  tentacles  already  have  found  out 
There's  something  more  than  common  hereabout. 
Even  if  I  would  forswear  myself,  I  could  not  here. 
But  come  along  !     From  fire  to  fire  we'll  go : 
I  will  the  pander  be,  and  you  the  beau. 

[To  some,  who  are  seated  round  expiring  embers. 


2oo  FAUST 


Old  gentlemen,  what  is  the  reason,  pray, 

You  sit  so  far  from  all  the  mirth  away  ? 

I'd  think  you  showed  more  wisdom  if  I  found  you 

Eight  in  the  thick  of  it  in  jovial  mood, 

With  lots  of  brisk  young  wenches  dancing  round  you. 


At  home  one  has  enough  of  solitude. 


GENERAL. 


Who  can  trust  a  nation's  truth, 

Though  from  ruin  he  may  save  her  ? 

For,  just  as  with  the  women,  youth 

With  them  stands  always  first  in  favour. 

MINISTER. 

Folks  now  have  all  gone  far  astray. 

The  good  old  times '  that  is  my  creed. 
For  when  we'd  things  all  our  own  way, 

That  was  the  golden  age  indeed. 

PARVENU. 

No  fools  were  we,  yet,  I  allow, 

We  often  did  the  things  we  should  not. 

But  all's  turned  topsy-turvy  now, 

Just  when  we  most  desired  it  would  not. 

AUTHOR. 

Who,  as  a  rule,  will  now  read  aught 
That  has  the  least  pretence  to  thought  ? 

And,  as  for  the  young  people,  they 
Grow  sillier,  perter,  every  day. 

mephistopheles  (who  all  at  once  appears  very  old). 

Mankind,  I  feel  I  may  assume, 
Are  ripened  for  the  day  of  doom, 


FAUST  201 

Now  that  I  here  for  the  last  time 
The  Mountain  of  the  Witches  climb : 
My  cask  runs  muddy,  and  one  sees 
The  world  is  also  on  the  lees. 

A  WITCH  (who  traffics  in  old  odds  and  ends). 

Come,  gentle  folks,  don't  pass  me  so ! 

Why  throw  a  chance  like  this  away  ? 

Observe  my  wares ;  so  choice  a  show 

Is  what  you  don't  see  every  day. 

Within  my  shop,  sirs,  there  is  nought  — 

A  shop  like  it  you'll  nowhere  find  — 

But  has  its  proper  mischief  wrought 

Unto  the  world  and  to  mankind. 

Here  is  no  dagger  but  has  run  with  gore ; 

No  chalice,  but  from  it  has  flowed 

Hot  shrivelling  poison  through  each  pore, 

Which,  till  it  came,  with  health  had  glowed : 

No  trinket,  but  to  shame  it  has  betrayed 

Some  woman  born  to  be  beloved  ;  no  blade, 

But  has  been  drawn  for  treasons  fell  and  black, 

Or  stabbed  a  foe,  perchance,  behind  his  back. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Coz,  coz,  you're  quite  behind  the  age. 
For  what  it  wants  you  have  no  feeling. 
Now  novelties  are  all  the  rage ; 
In  these,  then,  you  should  take  to  dealing ! 


FAUST. 

Grant  that  I  may  not  lose  my  wits !     Was  e'er 
In  all  the  universe  so  strange  a  Fair ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

To  reach  the  top  the  whole  mad  throng  are  striving, 
"lis  you  are  driven,  and  yet  you  think  you're  driving. 


202  FAUST 

FAUST. 
Who,  who  is  that  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Observe  her  well. 
Tis  Lilith. 

FAUST. 

Who? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Adam's  first  wife.     Beware 
Of  her  and  of  her  beauteous  hair ! 
Wherein  she  doth  all  women  else  excel. 
A  young  man  once  let  her  with  that  ensnare, 
It  is  a  mesh  he'll  find  it  hard  to  tear. 

FAUST. 

Yonder  sit  two,  an  old  witch  and  a  young ; 

But  now  they  danced  like  mad,  and  wheeled,  and  flung. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No  rest  from  that  to-night !     They  start  anew. 
Come,  take  a  partner !     We  must  foot  it,  too. 

FAUST  (dancing  with  a  young  witch). 

I  dreamed  a  dream,  was  sweet  to  see ; 

In  it  I  saw  an  apple-tiee, 

And  on  it  shone  fair  apples  two, 

I  climbed  to  pluck  them  where  they  grew. 

THE    FAIR    ONE. 

From  Eden  downward,  you've  in  sooth 
For  pippins  had  a  lickerish  tooth. 
It  glads  my  very  heart  to  know 
That  such  within  my  garden  grow. 


FAUST  203 

mephistopheles  {with  the  old  one). 

I  dreamed  a  dream,  was  wild  to  see ; 

In  it  I  saw  a  cloven  tree. 

It  had  a  .  .  . 

...  as  it  was,  I  fancied  it. 

THE    OLD    ONE. 

With  deepest  reverence  I  salute 
The  cavalier  of  the  horse's  foot. 
If  at  a  ...  he  does  not  scare, 
Let  him  .  .  .  straight  prepare. 

PROKTOPHANTASMIST. 

Confound  your  impudence !     Have  we  to  you 
Not  proved  long  since,  by  reasons  most  complete, 
That  spirits  never  stand  on  ordinary  feet  ? 
Yet  here  you  dance,  as  common  mortals  do. 

THE  fair  ONE  {dancing). 
What  brings  him  to  our  ball,  now  ? 

faust  {dancing). 

Oh! 
He's  everywhere,  and  always  so. 
What  others  dance  he  must  apprise. 
Each  step  he  cannot  criticise 
In  his  conceit's  no  step  at  all. 
The  thing  that  most  excites  his  gall 
Is  onward  motion.     If  you  would 
In  circles  keep  revolving  still, 
As  he  does  in  his  ancient  mill, 
No  doubt  he'd  say,  all  right  and  good  1 
And  that  especially,  provided 
You  owned  you  were  by  his  opinion  guided. 


204  FAUST 


PKOKTOPHANTASMIST. 


Still  at  it !     Tis  past  bearing  !     Vanish  hence  ! 
What !  in  these  days  of  high  intelligence  ! 
This  devilish  crew  despise  all  rule.     We  boast 
Our  great  good  sense,  yet  Tegel  has  its  ghost. 
The  years,  Heaven  knows  how  many,  I  have  been 
Sweeping  out  such  delusions  piece  by  piece ! 
But  never  will  the  human  mind  be  clean. 
'Tis  labour  lost  —  such  follies  never  cease. 

THE    FAIR    ONE. 

Then  cease  to  bore  us  here.     Give  place  ! 

PROKTOPHANTASMIST. 

I  tell  you,  spirits,  to  your  face, 
I'll  not  endure  this  spirit-thrall ! 
My  spirit  cannot  manage  it  at  all. 

[  TJie  dancing  proceeds. 
No  one  to-night,  I  see,  my  word  regards. 
My  journey  for  my  pains  have  I ; 
And  still  I  hope,  before  I  die, 
To  put  a  curb  on  devils  and  on  bards. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Straight  in  a  puddle  he  will  squat ; 
He  always  soothes  himself  with  that. 
And  when  the  leeches  have  grown  plump 
Upon  the  juices  of  his  rump, 
He's  cured,  and  without  more  ado, 
Of  spirits,  and  of  spirit,  too. 

[To  Faust,  who  has  left  the  dance. 
Why  have  you  left  the  pretty  wench  that  sang 
So  sweetly  to  you  in  the  dance  ? 

FAUST. 

Ugh  !  from  her  mouth  a  red  mouse  sprang, 
Even  while  she  sang. 


"'77s  but  a  magic  shape,  a  life/ess  wraith" 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  A.   Liezen  Meyer 


FAUST  205 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  lucky  chance ! 
About  such  things  we're  not  too  nice. 
It  was  not  gray,  let  that  suffice. 
Who  cares  for  trifles  such  as  this 
When  on  the  very  brink  of  bliss  ? 

FAUST. 

Then  I  saw  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What? 

FAUST. 

Mephisto,  seest  thou  there, 
Far  off,  alone,  a  girl,  pale,  pale  and  sweet  ? 
She  drags  herself  along,  and  with  the  air 
Of  one  that  makes  her  way  with  shackled  feet. 
It  cannot,  cannot  be ;  and  yet 
She  minds  me  of  sweet  Margaret. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Don't  look  that  way !     It  can  do  nought  but  scaith. 

'Tis  but  a  magic  shape,  a  lifeless  wraith. 

It  is  not  well  to  meet  such  anywhere. 

It  curdles  up  man's  blood  by  its  cold  stare, 

And  by  it  he  is  turned  to  stone  well-nigh. 

Thou'st  heard,  of  course,  of  the  Medusa. 


FAUST. 

Ay. 

The  eyes  of  one  that's  dead,  in  sooth  are  those, 
Which  there  has  been  no  loving  hand  to  close. 
That  is  the  breast  Margaret  gave  up  to  me, 
Those  the  sweet  limbs  whose  touch  was  ecstasy. 


2o6  FAUST 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thou  ready  gull,  therein  the  sorcery  lies. 

To  all  that  love  she  wears  the  loved  one's  guise. 


FAUST. 

What  bliss  !     What  torture  !     From  that  stare 

Myself  away  I  cannot  tear. 

How  strangely  does  a  thin  red  line, 

No  thicker  than  a  knife's  back,  fleck 

The  marble  of  her  lovely  neck ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Eight !     I  too  see  it,  thin  and  fine  ! 
Beneath  her  arm,  too,  she  can  carry 
Her  head,  for  Perseus  cut  it  off,  poor  soul. 
Pshaw !     Evermore  the  visionary  ! 
Come  on  with  me  to  yonder  knoll ; 
The  Prater's  self  is  not  more  gay, 
And,  if  I'm  not  bewitched,  I  see 
A  real  theatre.     What's  doing,  hey  ? 

SERVIBILIS. 

They  recommence  immediately. 

'Tis  a  new  piece,  the  last  of  seven.     To  play 

That  number  is  the  custom  here. 

The  piece  was  written  by  an  amateur, 

And  amateurs  perform  it.     You'll,  I'm  sure, 

Forgive  me,  if  I  disappear  ; 

It  is  my  office,  on  these  days, 

The  curtain,  sirs,  en  amateur  to  raise. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'm  truly  charmed  to  see  you  here : 

The  Blocksberg's  just  your  proper  sphere. 


FAUST  207 

WALPURGIS  NIGHT'S  DREAM; 
OR,  OBERON  AND  TTTANIA'S  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

Intermezzo. 

manager  of  the  theatre. 

Carnival  to-day  we  hold, 

Mieding's  children  true  we, 
All  our  scenery,  mountain  old, 

Valley  dank  and  dewy  ! 

HERALD. 

Golden  is  the  wedding,  when 

Fifty  years  have  rolled  on. 
But,  the  feud  once  over,  then 

Golden  it  will  hold  on. 

OBERON. 

Fairies,  if  ye  haunt  this  ground, 

Here  do  homage  duly, 
For  your  king  and  queen  are  bound 

In  love's  fetters  newly. 

PUCK. 

Puck,  when  he  begins  to  spin, 

And  foot  it  in  the  dingle, 
After  him  troop  hundreds  in, 

With  his  mirth  to  mingle. 

ARIEL. 

Ariel  with  his  silver  song 

Divine  fills  all  the  air,  too, 
Many  frights  to  hear  it  throng, 

Many  that  are  fair,  too. 


2  08  FAUST 


OBERON. 


Learn  ye,  whom  the  marriage-bond 
Has  not  made  one-hearted, 

If  you'd  make  a  couple  fond, 
Only  have  them  parted. 

TITANIA. 

Is  he  all  snarl,  and  she  all  whim, 
Upon  them  seize  instanter, 

Away  to  the  South  Pole  with  him, 
And  at  the  North  Pole  plant  her ! 

orchestra  (tutti  fortissimo). 

Fly's  proboscis,  midge's  nose, 
And  what  to  these  akin  are, 

Frog  and  shrilling  cricket,  those 
Purveyors  of  our  din  are. 

SOLO. 

See  where,  a  soap-bubble  sack, 
The  bagpipe  it  is  coming  ! 

Hark  the  Schnecke-Schnicke-Schnack 
Through  its  snub-nose  humming  ! 

SPIRIT  {that  is  fashioning  itself). 

Paunch  of  toad  and  spider's  foot, 
With  little  wings  below  'em, 

Make  not,  'tis  true,  a  little  brute, 
But  make  a  little  poem. 

A    PAIR    OF   LOVERS. 

Tiny  step  and  lofty  leap 

Through  honeydew  and  vapours  ; 
Yet  up  in  air  you  do  not  sweep, 

Despite  of  all  your  capers. 


FAUST  209 

INQUISITIVE    TRAVELLER. 

Is  this  Glamour,  to  fade  anon  ? 

Shall  I  believe  my  sight,  to 
See  the  fair  god  Oberon 

Here  with  us  to-night,  too  ? 

ORTHODOX. 

No  claws  !     No  tail !     And  yet,  I  wis, 

Undoubtedly  the  fact  is, 
That,  like  the  gods  of  Greece,  he  is 

A  devil  in  his  practice. 

NORTHERN    ARTIST. 

My  things  at  present,  to  be  sure, 

Are  sketchy  and  unsteady, 
Still  I  for  the  Italian  tour 

Betimes  am  getting  ready. 

PURIST. 

Tis  ill  luck  brings  me  here ;  this  crew, 
Their  din  grows  loud  and  louder, 

And  of  the  whole  witch-medley  two, 
And  only  two,  wear  powder. 

YOUNG    WITCH. 

Powder  is,  like  petticoat, 

For  beldames  old  and  ugly, 
So  I  sit  naked  on  my  goat, 

And  show  my  body  smugly. 

MATRON. 

With  you  we're  too  well-bred  by  far 

To  squabble  on  the  spot,  Miss ; 
But,  young  and  tender  as  you  are, 

I  hope  that  you  may  rot,  Miss. 


210  FAUST 

LEADEK  OF  THE  BAND. 

Fly's  proboscis,  midge's  nose, 

These  nude  folk  buzz  not  round  so, 

Frog  and  shrilling  cricket,  close 
In,  keep  time,  and  sound  so  ! 

weathercock   {toward  one  side). 

More  brilliant  throng  could  heart  desire  ? 

All  brides,  young,  fresh,  and  active ! 
And  younkers,  full  of  blood  and  fire, 

A  medley  most  attractive. 

weathercock   (toward  the  other  side). 

"Well,  if  the  ground  here  shall  not  gape, 
These  all  to  swallow  plump  down, 

Right  off,  their  antics  to  escape, 
I'll  into  hell-pit  jump  down. 

XENIEN. 

See  us  here  as  insects  !     Ha ! 

With  nebs  small,  sharp,  and  slitting, 
To  render  Satan,  our  papa, 

High  homage,  as  befitting. 

HENNINGS. 

See  how  they  crowd,  and  cheer  the  fun 
Of  every  kind  that's  started  ! 

They'll  even  say,  ere  all  is  done, 
That  they  are  kindly-hearted  ! 

MUSCYET. 

Itself  among  this  witches'  rout 

My  fancy  gladly  loses ; 
For  I  could  manage  them,  no  doubt, 

More  readily  than  the  Muses. 


FAUST  2ii 

CI-DEVANT    GENIUS    OF    THE    TIME. 

Cling  to  my  skirts !     Whate'er  betide, 
Our  worth  will  somewhere  class  us ; 

The  Blocksberg's  summit's  broad  and  wide, 
Like  Germany's  Parnassus. 

INQUISITIVE   TRAVELLER. 

Who  is  yon  stiff  starched  fellow,  say, 
With  stride  so  pompous  walking  ? 
He  sniffs  and  sniffs  where'er  he  may, 
"  'Tis  Jesuits,  he  is  stalking ! " 

CRANE. 

In  troubled  streams,  as  well  as  clear, 

'Tis  my  delight  to  angle; 
So  you  see  pious  people  here 

With  devils  mingle-mangle. 

WORLDLING. 

Yes,  nothing  can  the  pious  daunt, 

This  place  as  good  as  any  ; 
Upon  the  Blocksberg  here  they  plant 

Conventicles  a-many. 

DANCEK. 

Hark,  far-off  drums  !     Sure,  some  new  throng 

Is  in  the  distance  looming  ! 
Oh,  never  mind  !     It  is  among 

The  reeds  the  bitterns  booming ! 

DANCING   MASTER. 

Oh,  how  they  fling,  and  jig,  and  flop, 

Each  capering  as  he  best  can. 
The  crooked  skip,  the  clumsy  hop, 

To  foot  it,  as  the  rest  can. 


212  FAUST 


FIDDLER. 


Though  mingling  thus,  this  rabble  crew 
For  hate  would  like  to  rend  them ; 

As  Orpheus'  lyre  together  drew 

The  beasts,  the  bagpipes  blend  them. 

DOGMATIST. 

Critic  or  skeptic  shall  not  throw 

A  doubt  on  my  ideals ; 
The  devil  must  be  something,  though, 

Or  how  could  devils  be  else  ? 

IDEALIST. 

1 

The  fancy,  that  doth  work  in  me, 
For  once  much  too  intense  is ; 

In  sooth,  if  I  be  all  I  see, 
To-night  I've  lost  my  senses. 

REALIST. 

Oh,  entities  a  world  of  strife 
And  torment  do  entail  me ; 

Here  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  find  my  footing  fail  me. 

SUPERNATURALIST. 

I'm  quite  enchanted  with  this  scene, 

Its  babble  and  confusions, 
For  as  to  angels  I  can  e'en 

From  devils  draw  conclusions. 

SKEPTIC. 

Upon  the  flamelet's  track  they  roam, 
And  think  the  treasure  near  is ; 

Here  I  am  perfectly  at  home, 
For  doubt  the  devil's  fere  is. 


FAUST  213 

LEADER    OF   THE    BAND. 

Frog  and  shrilling  cricket,  those 

Confounded  dilettanti ! 
Fly's  proboscis,  midge's  nose, 

You're  fine  musicanti ! 

THE    KNOWING    ONES. 

Sans  souci,  they  call  us  so, 

Us  jolly  dogs,  that  troll  out ; 
To  walk  on  foot  is  now  no  go, 

So  on  our  heads  we  stroll  out. 

THE    MALADROIT    ONES. 

Ah !  many  rare  good  things,  'tis  true, 

We  had  of  yore  a  hand  in ; 
But,  oh !  our  pumps  are  danced  quite  through, 

And  we're  on  bare  soles  standing ! 

WILL-0  -THE-WISPS. 

We  come  fresh  from  our  native  haunts, 

From  bogs  and  from  morasses, 
But  who,  of  all  these  gay  gallants, 

In  glitter  can  surpass  us  ? 

STARFLAKE. 

I  shot  down  hither  from  on  high, 

A  star-fire  sheen  all  o'er  me ; 
Now  prostrate  on  the  ground  I  he, 

Who'll  to  my  legs  restore  me  ? 

THE    MASSIVE    ONES. 

Koom  !     Eoom  !     A  lane  there  !     Clear  the  way  ! 

The  grass  snaps,  where  we  jump  once : 
Lo  !  spirits  come ;  but  spirits  they 

With  bodies,  ay,  and  plump  ones ! 


2  14  FAUST 


PUCK. 


Tread  not,  I  beg,  so  heavily, 
Like  young  calves  elephantine  ; 

And  let  stout  Puck  the  plumpest  be 
To-night  our  fairy  haunt  in  ! 

AKIEL. 

If  you  have  wings,  boon  Nature's  gift, 

Then,  ere  our  revel  closes, 
Away  with  me  by  grove  and  clift 

Up  to  yon  hill  of  roses ! 

orchestra  [pianissimo). 

On  trailing  cloud,  and  wreathed  mist, 
A  sudden  light  has  kindled  ; 

Trees,  sedges  whist,  a  breeze  has  kissed, 
And  all  to  air  have  dwindled ! 


ACT   V. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Gloomy  Day.     Open  Country. 
Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

faust. 

In  misery !  In  despair !  After  long  wandering 
wretched  to  and  fro,  to  be  now  in  prison !  She,  that 
gentle  ill-starred  being,  immured  as  a  malefactor  in  a 
dungeon,  to  wait  a  frightful  doom !  And  it  has  come 
to  this !  to  this !  Treacherous,  worthless  Spirit,  and 
thou  hast  kept  this  from  me  !  —  Ay,  stand  there,  stand  ! 
Roll  thy  fiendish  eyes  in  savage  wrath !  Stand  and 
defy  me  by  thy  intolerable  presence  !  A  prisoner !  in 
irremediable   misery !     Given   over   to  wicked    spirits, 


FAUST  215 

and  to  the  merciless  judgment  of  men !  And  me,  me 
wert  thou  all  the  while  lulling  into  forgetfulness, 
with  vapid  dissipations  hiding  her  hourly  increasing 
wretchedness  from  me,  and  leaving  her  to  perish  with- 
out help. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

She  is  not  the  first. 

FAUST. 

Hound !  Detestable  monster !  Change  him,  thou 
infinite  Spirit,  change  the  reptile  once  more  into  that 
semblance  of  a  dog,  in  which  he  often  delighted  to 
gambol  before  me  at  night,  to  double  himself  up  at  the 
feet  of  the  harmless  wayfarer,  and,  if  he  fell,  to  fasten 
his  fangs  upon  his  shoulders.  Change  him  again  into 
his  favourite  shape,  that  he  may  crawl  on  his  belly  in 
the  dust  before  me,  that  I  may  spurn  him  with  my 
feet,  accursed  as  he  is  !  —  Not  the  first !  —  Woe  !  Woe  ! 
Not  by  the  soul  of  man  is  it  to  be  comprehended,  how 
more  than  one  human  creature  has  sunk  to  such  a 
depth  of  misery,  —  how  the  first  did  not  in  its  writh- 
ing death-agony  make  satisfaction  for  all  the  rest 
before  the  eyes  of  Him  that  evermore  forgives !  The 
misery  of  this  single  soul  pierces  my  very  marrow,  eats 
into  my  life ;  thou  grinnest  complacently  at  the  fate 
of  thousands ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Now  we  are  once  more  at  our  wit's  end,  strung  to 
that  pitch  at  which  the  reason  of  you  mortals  snaps. 
Why  do  you  make  fellowship  with  us,  if  you  cannot 
be  one  of  us  out  and  out  ?  Will  you  fly,  yet  are  not 
proof  against  dizziness  ?  Did  we  force  ourselves  on 
you,  or  you  on  us  ? 

FAUST. 

Gnash  not  thy  ravening  teeth  against  me  thus !  I'm 
sick  of  it !  —  Great  and  sublime  Spirit,  thou  who  didst 


2i6  FAUST 

deign  to  reveal  thyself  to  me,  thou  who  knowest  my 
heart  and  my  soul,  why  link  me  to  this  infamous  yoke- 
fellow, who  feeds  on  mischief,  and  battens  on  destruc- 
tion ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 
Hast  done  ? 

FAUST. 

Save  her !  or  woe  to  thee  !  The  awfullest  of  curses 
smite  thee  for  myriads  of  years ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  cannot  loose  the  bonds  of  the  avenger,  nor  undo 
his  bolts.  —  Save  her !  —  Who  caused  her  ruin  ?  I  or 
thou  ?  [Faust  looks  wildly  round.]  Wouldst  grasp 
the  thunder  ?  Tis  well  it  was  not  given  to  you 
miserable  mortals.  To  crush  the  first  innocent  man  he 
comes  across,  that  is  just  the  tyrant's  way  of  making 
a  clearance  for  himself  out  of  a  difficulty. 

FAUST. 

Take  me  where  she  is  !     She  shall  be  free ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  the  danger  which  you  run  ?  Remember  the 
guilt  of  blood,  shed  by  your  hand,  still  lies  upon  the 
town.  Avenging  spirits  hover  over  the  spot  where 
the  victim  fell,  and  he  in  wait  for  the  returning 
murderer ! 

FAUST. 

This  too  from  thee?  A  world's  murder  and  death 
upon  thee,  monster !  Conduct  me  thither,  I  say,  and 
set  her  free ! 


FAUST  2 i 7 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  will  conduct  thee !  Hear  what  I  can  do !  Have 
I  all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth  ?  I  will  cast  a 
glamour  over  the  gaoler's  senses ;  do  you  possess  your- 
self of  his  keys,  and  bear  her  oft1  with  mortal  hands.  I 
shall  watch  outside.  My  magic  horses  shall  be  ready 
to  carry  you  away.     This  much  I  can  do. 

FAUST. 

Up  and  away ! 


Scene    II.  —  Night.      Open  Country. 
Faust,  Mephistopheles,  sweeping  along  on  black  horses. 

FAUST. 

What  weave  they  yonder  round  the  Eavenstone  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Can't  tell  what  mess  they  have  in  hand. 

FAUST. 

They  wave  up,  they  wave  down,  they  are  swaying  and 
stooping. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  Witches'  Guild. 

FAUST. 

They  strew  and  make  libation. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Push  on  !     Push  on  ! 


218  FAUST 

Scene   III.  —  A  Dungeon. 
Faust  with  a  bundle  of  keys,  before  a  small  iron  door. 

FAUST. 

I  quake  with  a  strange  dread.     The  woe  of  all 
Mankind  possesses  me.     This  is  her  cell ! 
Here  does  she  he  behind  this  cold  dank  wall, 
And  all  her  crime  was  having  loved  too  well. 
Why  do  I  hang  back  thus  ?     Is't  fear 
To  think  how  I  again  shall  see  her  ? 
Onward!      Each   moment's  pause   brings   nearer   her 
death-knell. 
[Opening  the  lock.     A  voice  is  heard  within  singing. 

My  mother,  the  wanton, 

She  took  my  life. 

My  father,  the  rogue, 

Ate  me  up  with  his  knife ! 

My  wee  little  sister, 

She  picked  up  my  bones, 

And  laid  them  to  cool 

All  under  the  stones. 

Then  I  turned  to  a  woodbird, 

So  bonnie  to  see  ! 

Fly  away,  fly  away 

To  the  woodland  with  me ! 

FAUST  (opens  the  door). 

She  little  dreams  that  her  beloved  is  near, 
The  rattling  chains,  the  rustling  straw  can  hear. 

[He  enters. 

Margaret  (hiding  her  face  on  her  pallet). 
They  come !     Oh,  bitter  death !     Oh,  woe  is  me ! 


FAUST  219 

faust   (softly). 
Hush  !  hush  !     I  come  to  set  thee  free ! 

Margaret  (throwing  herself  at  his  feet) 
If  thou  be'st  human,  feel  for  my  distress ! 

FAUST. 

Thou'lt  wake  the  sentinels  !     These  cries  repress. 

[Takes  hold  of  her  fetters  to  unlock  them. 

Margaret  (on  her  knees). 

Who,  hangman,  who  has  given  you  right 

To  treat  me  thus  —  or  who  could  give  ? 

You  fetch  me,  while  'tis  yet  midnight. 

Oh,  pity  me,  and  let  me  live ! 

Is  daybreak  to-morrow  not  soon  enough  ?     [Bises. 

Oh,  I  am  still  so  young,  so  young, 

And  yet  must  die  ! 

Fair,  too,  they  told  me,  once  was  I, 

And  that  was  my  undoing.     He  was  nigh, 

My  own  dear  love,  in  those  sweet  hours. 

But  now  he's  far  away  from  me. 

My  wreath  is  torn,  and  scattered  are  its  flowers. 

Seize  me  not  with  a  grasp  so  rough  ! 

Spare  me,  what  have  I  ever  done  to  thee  ? 

Oh,  let  me  not  in  vain  implore ! 

I  never  saw  thee  all  my  days  before. 

FAUST. 

Can  I  survive  this  miserable  hour  ? 

MARGARET. 

Now  I  am  wholly  in  your  power, 

To  do  with  me  whatever  you  think  best 


220  FAUST 

But  to  the  babe  first  let  me  give  the  breast ! 

All  through  the  night  I  coaxed  and  stilled  it: 

They  took  it  from  me  to  vex  my  brain, 

And  now  they  say,  I  would  have  killed  it, 

And  never  shall  I  be  blithe  again. 

The  people,  they  sing  songs  about  me, 

To  sting  me,  and  flout  me. 

Ah  !  they  mean  me  unkindly  by  it ; 

An  old  tale  ends  so.     Who  bade  them  apply  it  ? 

FAUST  (flings  himself  on  the  ground). 

Thy  lover  here  lies  prostrate  at  thy  feet, 
To  rend  these  miserable  bonds,  my  sweet! 

MARGAKET   (throws  herself  by  his  side). 

Oh,  let  us  kneel  to  call  upon  the  saints ! 

Look  !     Look  !     Under  the  stair ! 

Under  the  door  there, 

The  fires  of  hell, 

They  seethe,  and  they  roar  there ! 

The  fiend  within, 

Furious  and  fell, 

Is  making  a  din  ! 

FAUST. 

Margaret !     Margaret ! 

Margaret  (listening). 

That  was  my  loved  one's  voice ! 

[She  springs  up  —  her  fetters  fall  off. 
Where  is  he  ?     Where  ?     I  heard  him  call. 
I'm  free  !     I'm  free  !     Let  no  one  try 
To  stay  me !     On  his  neck  I'll  fall, 
Upon  his  bosom  lie  ! 

He  called  on  Margaret !  stood  there  at  the  door 
Through  all  hell's  howling  and  its  roar, 


"  Thy  lover  here  lies  prostrate  at  thy  feet" 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  A.  Liezen-Meyer 


FAUST  221 

Through  devilish  scoff,  and  gibe,  and  groan, 
I  recognised  the  sweet,  the  loving  tone ! 

FAUST. 

'Tis  I ! 

MARGARET. 

Thou,  thou !     Oh,  say  it  once  again  ! 

[Clasping  him. 
'Tis  he,  'tis  he  !     Where  now  are  all  my  pains  ? 
The  anguish  of  the  dungeon  ?     Of  the  chains  ? 
'Tis  thou !     Thou  com'st  to  rescue  me  !     Oh,  then, 
Then  I  am  saved.     Oh,  now  again 
Along  the  street  I  wander  free, 
Where  first  I  met  with  thee ; 
Am  in  the  cheerful  garden,  by  the  gate, 
Where  for  thee  I  and  Martha  wait. 

FAUST  {trying  to  force  her  away). 
Come  with  me !     Come  ! 

MARGARET. 

Oh,  stay  ! 
I  like  so  much  to  stay,  love,  where  thou  stay'st. 

FAUST. 

Quick,  quick,  away ! 

Oh,  if  thou  wilt  not  haste, 

We  shall  rue  dearly  the  delay ! 

MARGARET. 

How's  this  ? 

Thou  canst  no  longer  kiss  ? 

Parted  from  me  so  short  a  time,  and  yet 

Thou  couldst  the  way  to  kiss  forget  ? 


222  FAUST 

Why  do  I  grow  so  sad  upon  thy  bosom  now, 

When  from  thy  words,  thy  looks,  in  other  days 

A  whole  heaven  flooded  me,  and  thou 

Didst  kiss,  as  thou  wouldst  stifle  me,  always  ? 

Kiss  me,  or  I'll  kiss  thee !  [Embraces  him. 

Oh,  woe  is  me  ! 

Thy  lips  are  cold,  they  chill  me  through. 

How  !  not  one  word  !     Where  hast  thou  left 

Thy  love  ?     Oh,  who 

Has  thy  poor  Margaret  of  that  bereft  ? 

[Turns  away  from  him. 

FAUST. 

Come,  follow  me  !     Take  courage,  oh,  my  sweet ! 
I'll  clasp  thee  to  my  heart,  when  this  is  o'er, 
A  thousand  ticSes  more  fondly  than  before, 
So  thou'lt  but  follow  me.     Hence,  I  entreat ! 

Margaret  (turning  to  him). 
And  is  it  thou,  then,  thou  ?     And  is  this  true  ? 

FAUST. 

Oh,  yes  !     Come !     Come  ! 

MARGARET. 

My  chains  thou  wilt  undo, 
Take  me  again  into  thy  breast !  —  So,  so  ! 
How  comes  it  that  thou  shrinkest  not  from  me  ? 
Oh,  my  sweet  love,  dost  thou,  then,  know 
Whom  thou  art  setting  free  ? 

FAUST. 

Come  !     Come  !     The  night's  already  on  the  wane ! 


FAUST  223 

MARGARET. 

My  mother  I  have  slain, 

And  drowned  my  child  !     To  thee 

The  little  one  was  given,  and  me ; 

To  thee,  love,  too !     'Tis  thou  !     Oh,  can  it  be  ? 

Give    me    thy    hand !      Yes !      Yes !     these    are    no 

dreams,  — 
Thine  own  dear  hand.     But,  woe  is  me  !  'tis  wet ! 
How  !  dripping,  dripping  yet  ? 
How  it  doth  run  ! 
Oh,  wipe  it  off  !     Meseems, 

There's  blood  upon't !    Ah,  God  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
Put  up  thy  sword  !     Oh,  sheathe  it,  I  implore  ! 

FAUST. 

Let  what  is  past  be  past !     I  can  no  more. 
Each  word  thou  speak'st  is  death  to  me. 

MARGARET. 

No,  I  must  go,  but  thou  must  stay. 

I  will  describe  the  graves  to  thee  : 

To-morrow  thou  to  them  must  see 

By  break  of  day. 

For  mother  the  best  place  provide. 

Then  to  her  lay  my  brother  nearest ; 

Me  a  little  to  one  side, 

But  not  too  far  off,  dearest ! 

And  the  little  one  on  my  breast  to  the  right ! 

No  one  else  shall  he  by  me. 

Ah,  love,  to  nestle  up  to  thee, 

It  was  a  sweet,  a  dear  delight ! 

But  that  I  never  again  shall  know. 

I  have  a  feeling  as  if  I  must 

Hang,  cling  to  thee,  and  thou  didst  thrust 

Me  back  —  back  —  back  !     Yet,  wherefore  so  ? 

Thou  art,  thou  lookest,  so  good,  so  kind  ! 


224  FAUST 


FAUST. 

If  such  thou  feel'st  I  am,  come,  come,  love ! 


Where? 


MARGARET. 

Out  yonder? 

FAUST. 

Out  to  the  open  air! 

MARGARET. 

If  the  grave  is  there, 

If  death  is  waiting,  come !     Tis  best. 

From  here  into  the  bed  of  everlasting  rest, 

And  not  a  step  beyond  !     Ah,  me  ! 

Thou'rt  going  ?     Henry,  if  I  might  with  thee  ! 

FAUST. 

Thou  canst !     Decide  !     See,  open  stands  the  door ! 

MARGARET. 

I  dare  not  go.     For  me  all  hope  is  o'er. 
What  boots  to  fly  ?     Beset  with  spies  am  I. 
It  is  so  hard  to  have  to  beg  your  way, 
And  with  an  evil  conscience  harder  still ; 
It  is  so  hard  in  a  strange  land  to  stray, 
And  they  will  catch  me,  do  whate'er  I  will. 

FAUST. 

Then  I  remain  with  thee ! 

MARGARET. 

Fly,  fly ! 

Thy  child  will  die  ! 

Save  it !  oh,  save  it ! 
Away !  away  ! 


FAUST  225 

Keep  to  the  path, 

Up  by  the  brook, 

And  into  the  wood  beyond  ! 

Strike  to  the  left 

By  the  plank  in  the  pond ! 

Quick  !     Seize  it,  seize  it ! 

It  tries  to  rise  ! 

It  is  struggling  yet. 

Help!     Help! 

FAUST. 

Be  calm !  be  still ! 

Only  one  step,  and  thou,  art  free 

MAKGARET. 

Oh,  were  we  only  past  the  hill ! 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone  ; 
My  temples  throb  with  an  icy  dread. 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, 
And  to  and  fro  she  waves  her  head : 
Her  eyes  are  set,  she  makes  no  moan, 
Her  hand  is  heavy  as  lead. 
She  slept  so  long,  no  more  she'll  wake ; 
She  slept,  that  we  our  delight  might  take 
That  was  a  happy  time  ! 

FAUST. 

Thou'rt  deaf  to  all  remonstrance,  prayer, 
And  I  perforce  must  bear  thee  hence. 

MARGARET. 

Unhand  me  !     Cruel  one,  forbear  ! 

I  will  endure  no  violence. 

Lay  not  this  murderous  grasp  on  me. 

Time  was,  I  gave  up  all  to  pleasure  thee  ! 


226  FAUST 

FAUST. 

The  day  is  breaking !     Darling  !     Darling ! 

MARGARET. 

Ay! 
The  day,  indeed  !  The  last  day  draweth  nigh. 
It  should  have  been  my  wedding-day.     Let  no  one 

know 
That  thou  hast  been  with  Margaret  before. 
Woe  to  my  garland,  woe  ! 
Already  all  is  o'er. 
Love,  we  shall  meet  once  more, 
But  not  in  the  dance,  ah,  no  ! 
The  multitude,  they  come ! 
So  hushed,  you  cannot  hear  the  hum. 
The  lanes,  the  streets,  the  square, 
Scarce  hold  the  thousands  there. 
The  bell !     Hark  to  its  boom  ! 
The  staff  of  doom 

Is  broken.     How  they  bind  me,  blind  me ! 
Now  to  the  seat  of  blood  they  drag  me  off; 
And  every  neck  doth  feel 
The  quiver  of  the  steel, 
That's  quivering  for  mine  ! 
Now  lies  the  world  all  silent  as  the  grave. 

FAUST. 

Oh,  that  I  never  had  been  born  ! 

mephistopheles   (appears  at  the  door). 

Away ! 
Away  !     Or  you  are  lost  for  ever ! 
Truce  to  this  waiting  and  prating,  this  bootless  delay ! 
My  horses  shiver ! 
The  morning  is  dawning  gray ! 


FAUST  227 

MARGARET. 

What's  that,  sprang  from  the  ground  ?     I  know  its 

face ! 
Send  him  away  !  'tis  he !  'tis  he ! 
What  should  he  do  in  a  holy  place  ? 
He  comes  for  me. 

FAUST. 

Thou  shalt  —  must  live  ! 

MARGARET. 

Judgment  of  God ! 

Myself  unto  Thy  mercy  I  resign ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to    FAUST). 

Come  !     Come  !     How's  this  ?     You  will  not  stir  ? 
I'll  leave  you  in  the  lurch  with  her. 

MARGARET. 

Thine  am  I,  Father,  thine  ! 
Save  me !     Ye  angels  !     Ministers  of  light 
Compass  me  round  with  your  protecting  might ! 
Henry,  I  shudder  as  I  think  of  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

She's  judged. 

voice  (from  above). 

She's  saved. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to   FAUST). 

Away  with  me ! 

[Disappears  with  FAUST. 

voice  (from  within,  dying  away). 
Henry  !     Henry  ! 


Faust 

A  Tragedy 


Part  II. 


Faust :    A   Tragedy 

ACT   I. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Beautiful  Landscape. 

FAUST  reclining  in  a  flowery  meadow,  wearied,  restless, 

trying  to  sleep. 

Twilight. 

(A   troop  of  elves  flitting  round  him,   graceful   little 

forms.) 

ARIEL. 

(Song,  accompanied  by  Eolian  harps) 

When  the  spring-time,  scattering  flowers, 

Robes  in  verdure  hill  and  glen, 
When  green  meadows,  bright  with  showers, 

Gladden  all  the  sons  of  men, 
Little  elves,  where  spirits  languish, 

Haste  their  troubled  fears  to  still ; 
They  are  grieved  by  mortal's  anguish, 

Be  the  mourner  good  or  ill. 

Ye,  who  in  airy  circles  round  him  float, 
Here  show  that  ye  are  elves  of  noble  note. 
Soothe  into  calm  his  heart's  distressful  fray, 
Pluck  out  the  burning  arrows  of  remorse, 
Wash  from  his  spirit  all  its  past  dismay ; 

231 


232  FAUST 

Night  hath  four  periods  in  her  solemn  course, 
Now  fill  them  kindly  up  without  delay ! 
Pillow  his  head  on  yon  cool  bank,  and  then 
Bathe  him  in  dew  from  Lethe's  stream ;  anon 
Will  his  cramp-stiffened  limbs  relax  again, 
When  all  refreshed  he  wakens  with  the  dawn. 
Do  the  elves'  fairest  'best  aright, 
Restore  him  to  the  blessed  light ! 

CHORUS. 

When  across  the  emerald  meadows 

Warm  and  fragrant  breezes  play, 
Closing  round  in  misty  shadows, 

Softly  falls  the  twilight  gray  ; 
Whispers  gently  peace  to  mortals, 

Rocks  the  heart  to  childlike  rest ; 
Closes  up  the  daylight's  portals 

To  those  wearied  eyes  unblest. 

Now  the  night  is  deeply  darkling, 

Gleams  out  hallowed  star  on  star, 
Lights  of  power,  or  faintly  sparkling, 

Twinkle  near,  and  gleam  afar. 
In  the  lake  they  sparkle  tender, 

Gleam  in  yon  clear  vault  profound  ; 
Reigns  the  moon  in  full-orbed  splendour, 

Perfecting  the  peace  around. 

See,  the  hours  of  night  have  vanished, 

Joy  and  grief  have  passed  away. 
Wake  !  rejoice !  thy  pain  is  banished, 

Trust  the  new-advancing  day. 
Vales  grow  green,  hills  steep  and  steeper, 

Shadows  deepen  thick  with  leaves, 
And  the  harvest  to  the  reaper 

In  long  silvery  billows  heaves. 


FAUST  233 

Fix  thy  gaze  in  yonder  glory, 

Wouldst  thou  win  thy  wish  and  keep, 
Frail  the  spell  that  resteth  o'er  thee, 

Fling  away  the  husk  of  sleep ! 
Though  the  crowd  grow  pale  and  waver, 

Onward  thou,  with  dauntless  soul ! 
Gallant  heart  is  baffled  never, 

Striving  to  a  noble  goal ! 
[A  tremendous  clangour  indicates  the  approach  of 

the  Sun. 

AKIEL. 

Hark,  the  ringing  hours  of  morn ! 
Pealing  unto  spirit  ears, 
Lo,  another  day  is  born, 
Lo,  another  dawn  appears  ! 
Adamantine  gates  are  crashing, 
Phoebus'  car-wheels  rattling,  clashing,  — 
What  clang  harbingers  the  sun  ! 
Trump  and  clarion  pealing  clear, 
Dazzling  eye  and  stunning  ear  ! 
Hence  !     Our  elfin  reign  is  done. 
Slip  into  your  flowery  cells, 
Couch  in  lone,  untrodden  dells, 
To  the  clefts  and  thickets  come ! 
Day  will  all  your  powers  benumb. 


FAUST  (awaking). 

Life's  pulses  dance  with  fresh  and  bounding  pace, 
The  ethereal  splendours  of  the  dawn  to  greet ; 
Thou,  earth,  thou  too  this  night  didst  hold  thy  place, 
And  breathest  with  new  vigour  at  my  feet, 
Bid'st  joy  even  now  within  my  breast  grow  rife, 
And  high  resolves  dost  stir  with  kindling  heat, 
To  scale  life's  topmost  heights  through  toil  and  strife ! 
Now  lies  the  world  in  morning's  twilight  beam, 


234  FAUST 

The  woodland  rings  with  thousand-voiced  life, 
All  through  the  valley  misty  hazes  stream, 
Yet  to  its  depths  doth  heaven's  clear  radiance  creep, 
And,  bathed  in  freshness,  wood  and  thicket  gleam, 
From  dewy  clefts  where  late  they  lay  asleep ; 
The  glades  are  dappled  with  a  thousand  dyes, 
Where  flower  and  leaflet  trembling  pearls  do  weep, 
And  all  around  grows  fair  as  Paradise ! 

Aloft  the  giant  peaks,  far-gleaming  bright, 
Proclaim  the  hour  at  hand,  that  fires  the  skies ; 
They  feel  the  first  flush  of  the  eternal  light, 
That  finds  its  way  betimes  to  us  below. 
Now  o'er  the  green  slopes  of  yon  Alpine  height 
The  advancing  splendour  spreads  a  livelier  glow, 
And,  step  by  step,  it  gains  the  lower  ground. 
Lo,  the  broad  sun !     And  blinded  with  the  flow, 
That  stings  the  shrinking  sight,  I  turn  me  round. 

So  when  a  hope,  by  long  devotion  fanned, 
Hath  won  the  height  of  its  desire  and  found 
Fulfilment's  portals  wing-like  wide  expand, 
But  now  from  yonder  depths  eternal  leaps 
A  whelming  burst  of  flame,  amazed  we  stand ; 
Life's  torch  we'd  fain  illumine  there,  when  sweeps 
A  sea  of  fire  around  us,  eddying  fast  — 
Is't  love  ?  is't  hate  ?  that  round  us  hotly  creeps, 
With  joy  and  pain,  in  alternation  vast,  — 
So  that  once  more  to  earth  we  turn  our  gaze, 
And  shrinking  childhood's  mantle  round  us  cast. 


•& 


So  then  behind  me  let  the  sunbeams  blaze ! 

The  waterfall,  that  down  yon  chasm  is  roaring, 

I  view  with  deepening  rapture  and  amaze. 

Now,  in  a  myriad  broken  runlets  pouring, 

It  bounds  from  ledge  to  ledge,  and,  shattering  there, 

Shoots  up,  in  spray  and  filmy  vapour  soaring. 


FAUST  235 

Yet  o'er  this  turmoil  how  divinely  fair 

The  rainbow's  many-tinted  arch  is  wound, 

Now  pencilled  clear,  now  melting  into  air, 

A  dewy  cool  diffusing  far  around, 

A  mirror  this  of  mortal  coil  and  strife ! 

And  there,  if  well  thou  ponderest,  will  be  found, 

In  glowing  hues  revealed,  a  type  of  life. 


Scene  II.  —  Imperial  Palace.      Throne-room. 

Privy  Council  met  in  Expectation  of  the  Emperor. 

Trumpets. 

Enter  courtiers  of  every  rank  in  magnificent  dresses. 
The  Emperor  ascends  the  throne.  On  his  right 
hand  The  Astrologer. 

THE    EMPEROR. 

I  greet  the  liegemen  true  and  dear, 
Met  here  from  near  and  distant  lands ; 
My  sage,  I  see,  beside  me  stands, 
But  why  my  fool,  is  he  not  here  ? 

PAGE. 

Sir,  on  your  royal  train  he  stumbled 
As  we  came  up  the  stair,  and  tumbled ; 
They  bore  Sir  Corpulence  away, — 
Or  dead  or  drunk,  who  is  to  say  ? 

second  page. 

And  what  was  passing  strange,  apace 
Another  steps  into  his  place ; 
The  dress  he  wore  is  rich  and  rare, 
But  so  grotesque,  it  makes  folks  stare. 


236  FAUST 

The  guards  their  halberds  crossed  before 
The  fellow  as  he  reached  the  door, 
As  coming  contrary  to  rule ; 
But  see !  he's  here,  the  forward  fool ! 

mephistopheles  (kneeling  before  the  throne). 

What  is  accursed,  yet  welcome  ever ; 
What  is  desired,  yet  kept  at  bay  ; 
What  do  men  turn  their  backs  on  never, 
Yet's  banned  and  railed  at  day  by  day  ; 
Whom  dost  thou  dare  not  summon  here, 
Whose  name  in  all  men's  ears  is  sweet, 
Who  to  the  very  throne  draws  near, 
Yet  is  self -banished  to  retreat  ? 


EMPEROK. 

Friend,  for  the  nonce  your  jargon  spare ! 
Here  riddles  out  of  place  are  sadly ; 
They  are  these  gentlemen's  affair. 
Kesolve  them,  and  I'll  listen  gladly. 
My  former  fool,  I  fear,  has  lost  his  head : 
You  take  his  place,  and  come  up  here  instead. 
[Mephistopheles  goes  up  and  places  himself  on 
the  Emperor's  left. 

MURMUR    OF    THE   CROWD. 

A  new  fool  —  so  new  plagues  begin. 
Where  comes  he  from  ?  —  how  came  he  in  ? 
The  old  one  tripped  —  used  up,  past  saving : 
He  was  a  vat  —  here  now's  a  shaving. 

EMPEROR. 

So  now,  my  liegemen,  whom  I  love, 
Be  welcome  all,  from  far  and  near  ! 


FAUST  237 

Beneath  auspicious  stars  ye're  gathered  here ; 

For  us  are  joy  and  weal  writ  there  above ! 

But  say,  why,  at  a  time  when  we 

From  every  care  would  fain  be  free 

In  mumming,  mask,  and  revelry 

To  take  our  fill  of  pure  delights, 

Should   we   be   plagued  with   setting  state   affairs  to 

rights  ? 
But  since  you're  clear  they  will  not  brook  delay, 
Then  be  it  so,  and  have  it  your  own  way. 

CHANCELLOR. 

Virtue  supreme,  that,  like  an  aureole  bright, 

Circles  the  Emperor's  brows,  his  royal  hand 

Alone  can  exercise  by  sovereign  right. 

Justice !     What  all  men  love,  what  all  demand, 

All  long  for,  and  without  it  scarce  may  live,  — 

This  to  his  people  'tis  his  part  to  give. 

But  what  avails  clear  head,  or  kindly  heart, 

Or  ready  hand  to  play  the  patriot's  part, 

When  the  state's  torn  by  feverish  disquiet, 

And  mischief  runs  in  breeding  mischief  riot  ? 

The  whole  broad  realm  below  to  us  doth  seem 

From  our  high  vantage  ground  a  nightmare  dream, 

Where  forms  misshapen  are  in  chaos  blent, 

Where  lawlessness  makes  law  its  instrument, 

And  error  and  delusion  everywhere 

Are  rampant,  and  infect  the  very  air. 

One  steals  a  flock,  a  woman  one, 

Cross,  chalice,  candles  from  the  altar, 

Brags  through  the  years  of  what  he's  done, 

Nor  gets  his  neck  into  a  halter. 

Now  to  the  court  the  accusers  throng, 

The  judge  in  cushioned  state  sits  proud, 

In  surging  eddies  rolls  along 

Tumultuously  the  clamorous  crowd. 


238  FAUST 

Yet  dreads  the  criminal  no  ill 

Who  in  accomplices  has  friends, 

And  "  Guilty  ! "  is  the  sentence  still 

Where  innocence  on  itself  depends. 

So  will  the  world  in  time  be  wrecked, 

Truth,  honour,  virtue  perish  quite ; 

How  should  we  there  the  sense  expect, 

Alone  can  guide  us  to  what's  right  ? 

A  man,  not  ill-disposed,  in  time 

To  flattery  or  to  bribes  will  fall, 

A  judge,  who  cannot  punish  crime, 

Go  partner  with  the  criminal. 

My  sketch  I've  drawn  of  blackest  hue, 

Yet  fain  had  kept  it  from  the  view.  [Pause. 

Steps  must  be  taken,  and  ere  long ; 

When  all  or  do  or  suffer  wrong, 

There's  danger  even  to  the  throne. 


FIELD  -  MARSHAL. 

Oh,  the  mad  days  wherein  we're  living  ! 

All  men  are  taking  blows  or  giving, — 

Obedience  is  a  thing  unknown. 

The  cit  behind  his  moated  wall, 

The  noble  in  his  rocky  nest, 

Combine  at  bay  to  keep  us  all, 

Each  holding  stoutly  by  the  rest. 

Our  mercenaries  restive  grow, 

Demand  their  hire  with  angry  cry, 

Yet,  if  'twere  all  paid  up,  we  know 

They'd  bolt,  and  never  say  "  Good-bye  ! " 

To  say  what  all  men  want's  debarred, 

Is  to  disturb  a  hornet's  nest ; 

The  kingdom  they  should  shield  and  guard 

Is  ravaged,  plundered,  and  oppressed. 

None  try  to  curb  the  rabble  rout ; 

Already  half  the  world's  undone ; 


FAUST  239 

Kings  still  there  be,  a  few,  about, 

But  not  one  thinks  'tis  his  affair,  not  one. 

TKEASURER. 

Who'd  pin  his  faith  upon  allies  ? 

Our  funds,  they  say,  they'll  subsidise, 

But  at  the  source  their  bounties  stop, 

And  leak  through  to  us  drop  by  drop. 

Again,  sir,  who,  your  wide  realms  through, 

Keeps  what  his  fathers  left  him,  who  ? 

Where'er  we  turn,  some  new  man's  in  the  ascendent, 

And  will,  forsooth,  be  independent. 

Do  what  he  may,  howe'er  absurd 

Or  wrong,  we  must  not  say  a  word. 

We  have  surrendered  rights  so  many, 

We  have  not  left  ourselves  with  any. 

On  so-called  parties  in  the  state 

There's  no  dependence  nowadays ; 

Whether  they  rail  at  us,  or  praise, 

We  prize  alike  their  love  and  hate. 

Your  Ghibelline,  so  too  your  Ouelph, 

Greedy  of  ease,  gets  out  of  reach. 

What  man  now  helps  his  neighbour  ?     Each 

Is  only  thinking  of  himself. 

The  golden  gates  are  barred ;  men  screw, 

And  scrape,  and  snatch,  and  hoard,  and  pile, 

And  our  exchequer's  empty  all  the  while. 

STEWARD. 

What  plagues  beset  my  office  too ! 
We're  trying  day  by  day  to  save, 
Yet  each  day  brings  me  calls  for  more, 
And  cares  and  worries  new  and  grave. 
The  kitchen  never  lacks  good  store  : 
Stags,  wild  boars,  leverets,  hinds,  and  hares, 
Fowls,  turkeys,  geese  and  ducks  in  pairs,  — 


240  FAUST 

Payment  in  kind,  —  whate'er  may  hap, 

Come  duly  in,  to  till  the  gap. 

But  now  our  wine  is  running  low. 

Butts  upon  butts  we  once  did  own, 

All  the  best  growths,  the  finest  years, 

Piled  in  the  cellar,  tiers  on  tiers ; 

But  our  great  nobles  round  the  throne, 

Slaking  a  thirst  that  knows  no  stop, 

Are  draining  them  to  the  last  drop. 

Even  the  Town  Council  are  not  able 

To  keep  their  stores  untapped  ;  they  fly 

To  bowl  and  beaker,  drain  them  dry, 

Till  the  sots  sink  beneath  the  table. 

Now  I,  perforce,  must  pay  for  all : 

The  Jew  won't  spare  me :  he  presents 

His  bonds  of  credit,  that  forestall 

The  produce  of  the  next  year's  rents. 

Our  very  pigs  we  cannot  fatten, 

The  pillow's  pawned  from  off  the  bed, 

And  what  to  table  comes  is  forehand-eaten  bread. 


EMPEROR   (reflects  avjhile,  then  says  to 
MEPHISTOPIIELES). 

Have  you  no  grievance,  fool,  to  bring  us  pat  in  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Not  I,  indeed.     Viewing  this  grand  display, — 

Thee  and  thy  Court,  —  full  trust  who  must  not  feel, 

Where  kingship  holds  indisputable  sway, 

And,  backed  by  ready  force,  makes  foemen  reel  ? 

Where  loyal  hearts,  strong  through  conviction  clear, 

And  energy  to  act,  are  ever  near, 

Who  could  for  wrong  or  purpose  dark  unite, 

Where  stars  are  shining  so  supremely  bright  ? 


FAUST  241 


MUKMUR. 


He  is  a  knave  —  a  shrewd  one  too. 

He  lies  —  but  with  an  end  in  view. 

I'm  sure  there's  something  lurks  behind  — 

Some  what  ?  —  Some  scheme  to  cheat  the  blind  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Where  lacks  not  something  in  this  earthly  sphere  ? 
Here  this,  there  that :  'tis  Coin  is  lacking  here. 
Not  from  the  floor  can  it  be  scraped,  no  doubt ; 
Still  wisdom  draws  what's  hid  most  deeply  out. 
In  mountain-lodes,  in  walls  far  under  ground, 
Gold,  coined  and  uncoined  too,  is  to  be  found. 
And  ask  you,  who  can  bring  it  to  the  light  ? 
Some  gifted  man's  Nature-and-Spirit-miglit. 

CHANCELLOR. 

Nature  and  Spirit  ?     No  words  for  Christian  men ! 

For  this  they  burn  your  atheists  now  and  then, 

As  such  talk  is  extremely  dangerous. 

Nature  is  Sin,  Spirit  the  devil ;  thus 

They  gender  doubt  betwixt  them  —  that 

Deformed  hermaphroditic  brat. 

This  sort  of  thing  won't  do  with  us  ! 

Our  Emperor's  ancient  kingdom  through, 

Two  orders  have  sprung  up,  and  only  two,  — 

The  Clergy  and  the  Nobles,  —  and  they  make 

A  sure  stay  for  his  throne,  and  seemly  guard, 

Defying  every  tempest ;  so  they  take 

The  Church  and  State  for  their  well-earned  reward. 

There's  a  rebellious  spirit  brewing 

Amongst  the  vulgar  and  the  bad ; 

All  heretics'  and  wizards'  doing, 

Who're  driving  town  and  country  mad. 

And  now  with  ribald  jests  you,  you,  begin 

To  assail  the  men  who  move  in  this  high  sphere ! 


242  FAUST 

Hearts  rotten  at  the  core  to  you  are  dear, 
For  they  to  fools  are  very  nigh  akin ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  see  the  scholar,  sir,  in  what  you  say. 
What  you  touch  not,  foi  you  lies  miles  away ; 
What  you  grasp  not,  no  being  has  for  you  ; 
What  you  count  not,  you're  clear  cannot  be  true ; 
What  you  weigh  not,  has  neither  weight  nor  size ; 
What  you  coin  not,  is  worthless  in  your  eyes. 

EMPEROR. 

Our  needs  are  nowise  to  be  lightened  thus. 

Your  Lenten  Sermon,  what  is  that  to  us  ? 

I'm  sick  of  the  eternal  How  and  When : 

'Tis  cash  we  want  —  hard  cash !     So  get  it,  then ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

All  you  desire  I'll  get,  and  more,  so  please  ye ; 

The  task  is  light,  and  yet,  though  light,  not  easy. 

The  gold  is  there ;  but  how  to  haul  it  in  ? 

That  calls  for  skill :  who  knows  how  to  begin  ? 

Only  reflect,  in  the  dark  days,  when  tides 

Of  men  swamped  countries  and  their  folk  besides, 

How  he  and  he,  in  the  first  panic  scare, 

Hid  what  he  prized  most  dearly  anywhere ! 

So  was  it  under  Eome's  imperial  sway  — 

So  on  to  yesterday,  ay,  to  to-day. 

It  all  lies  hidden  in  the  soil ;  the  soil 

The  Emperor's  is,  and  he  shall  have  the  spoil 

TREASURER. 

Well,  for  a  fool,  he  does  not  talk  amiss ; 
The  Emperor's  ancient  right  undoubted  this ! 


FAUST  243 


CHANCELLOK. 


For  you  spreads  Satan  golden  snares ;  you'll  do 
What  is  unrighteous  and  unholy  too. 


STEWARD. 


So  that  he  only  bring  us  gifts  of  price, 
About  unrighteousness  I  sha'n't  be  nice. 


FIELD    MARSHAL. 


Shrewd  fool,  to  promise  what  by  all  is  sought ! 
The  soldier  won't  inquire  whence  it  was  brought. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


And  if,  belike,  you  think  I'm  talking  fudge, 
There's  the  Astrologer  —  let  him  be  judge  ! 
Cycle  on  Cycle,  Hour  and  House  he  knows  ; 
Say,  sir,  what  do  the  heavenly  signs  disclose  ? 

MUKMUR. 

A  pair  of  knaves  —  confederates  clear, 
Phantast  and  fool  —  the  throne  so  near. 
An  old,  old  story  !  stale  with  age  — 
As  the  fool  prompts,  so  speaks  the  sage ! 

astrologer  (speaks,  mephistopheles  prompting). 

Gold  of  the  purest  is  the  orb  of  day ; 

Mercury,  the  herald,  serves  for  grace  and  pay ; 

Dame  Venus  hath  bewitched  you,  one  and  all, 

On  you  all  hours  her  loving  glances  fall. 

Chaste  Luna's  full  of  whims  and  fancies  light ; 

Mars,  though  he  strike  not,  awes  you  with  his  might ; 

And  Jupiter  shows  the  loveliest  star  of  all. 

Saturn  is  great,  far  to  the  eye  and  small ; 


244  FAUST 

Him  lowliest  'mongst  the  metals  do  we  rate, 
Trivial  in  value,  ponderous  in  weight. 
But  mark !     When  Sol  and  Luna  come  together, 
And  gold  mates  silver,  then  'tis  finest  weather ; 
Straightway  one  gets  whatever  else  one  seeks, 
Parks,  palaces,  plump  bosoms,  rosy  cheeks. 
All  this  is  wrought  by  that  most  learned  man, 
Who  can  achieve  what  none  amongst  us  can. 


EMPEROR. 

His  words  ring  double  in  all  they  say ; 
But  they  convince  me  not,  not  they. 


MURMUR. 

An  idle  tale  —  jest  worn  and  stale  ! 
Star-gazers'  dreams  —  alchemists'  schemes  ! 
Things  oft  told  to  us  —  devised  to  do  us ! 
For  all  his  coaxing,  merest  hoaxing ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

With  foolish  stare  they  stand  around ; 
No  faith  have  they  in  hidden  prizes : 
Kobold  and  gnome  one  man  surmises, 
Another  prates  of  the  coal-black  hound. 
What  matter,  if  sorry  jokes  one  crack, 
Another  at  sorcerers'  cantrips  rail, 
If  gout  his  feet  with  its  twinges  rack, 
And  his  legs  beneath  him  quake  and  fail  ? 
Ye  all  the  secret  working  feel 
Of  nature's  ever-predominant  power, 
And  her  living  traces  this  very  hour 
Up  from  her  nethermost  regions  steal. 
When  every  bone  in  your  body  grows  sick, 
And  a  something  uncanny  stirs  in  the  air, 


FAUST  245 

Then  courage !  to  work  with  spade  and  pick ! 
There  lies  the  fiddler,  the  treasure  is  there ! 1 

MURMUR. 

My  feet  are  heavy  as  lead  —  that's  gout ; 
Cramps  through  my  arms  run  in  and  out ; 
My  great  toe  burns,  and  shoots,  and  twitches ; 
All  over  my  back  there  are  pains  and  stitches : 
By  all  these  signs  it  would  appear, 
There  are  heaps  of  richest  treasure  here. 

EMPEROR. 

Look  sharp !  I  brook  no  more  delay ! 
Prove  that  your  frothy  flams  are  true, 
And  bare  these  famous  piles  to  view ! 
Then  sword  and  sceptre  I'll  put  away, 
And  with  my  royal  hands  I  will, 
If  you  he  not,  the  work  fulfil ; 
But  if  you  lie,  I'll  pack  you  off  to  hell ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  road  there  I  at  least  should  know  right  well ! 

But,  sir,  words  fail  me,  adequate  to  tell 

What  unowned  wealth  lies  waiting  everywhere. 

The  boor,  that  through  the  furrow  drives  his  share, 

Turns  up  a  crock  of  bullion  with  the  mould ; 

He  hopes  saltpetre  hidden  in  the  clay, 

And,  half  in  ecstasy,  half  in  dismay, 

In  his  gaunt  fingers  finds  rouleaux  of  gold. 

But  then  the  arches  must  be  burst, 

The  chasms,  the  shafts,  through  which  he  must, 

1  The  allusion  is  to  a  superstition  common  in  Germany,  that 
when  people  stumble,  they  are  passing  over  a  spot  where  a  musi- 
cian is  buried,  —  being  affected,  as  certain  sensitive  people  are 
said  to  be,  on  coming  to  ground  under  which  gold  or  other  min- 
erals lie. 


246  FAUST 

Who's  treasure-wise,  a  passage  thrust, 

To  reach  the  wondrous  world  below ! 

In  spacious  vaults,  strong-barred,  untold 

Plates,  goblets,  salvers,  all  of  gold, 

He  sees  around  him,  row  on  row. 

There  ruby-studded  beakers  stand, 

And,  if  he'd  drink  from  them,  at  hand 

Are  fluids  aged  as  the  hills. 

The  casks  have  long  been  turned  to  dust, 

But  the  wine-tartar  —  if  you'll  trust 

One  who  knows  well  —  their  function  fills. 

The  essences  of  noble  wine, 

As  well  as  gold  and  jewels  fine, 

Themselves  in  gruesome  night  enshrine. 

'Tis  here  the  wise  man  —  pray  you,  mark  !  — 

Unweariedly  pursues  his  quest. 

To  hunt  by  daylight  were  a  jest ; 

The  home  for  mysteries  is  the  dark. 

EMPEROR. 

That  may  be  so.     Gloom  !     What's  the  good  of  that  ? 
Things  of  true  worth  are  sure  to  come  to  light. 
Who  can  detect  a  rascal  in  black  night  ? 
Your  cow  in  the  dark  is  black,  and  gray  your  cat. 
These  pitchers  down  below,  crammed  full  of  gold, 
Do  you  with  ploughshare  to  the  light  unfold ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Take  spade  and  pickaxe,  dig  yourself !     The  toil 
Will  make  you  great,  mere  peasant's  though  it  be, 
And  presently,  emerging  from  the  soil, 
A  herd  of  golden  calves  will  struggle  free. 
Then  in  your  transports  may  you  without  check 
Yourself  and  your  fair  ladye  love  bedeck, 
For  lustrous  gems  give  lustre  great 
To  beauty  as  well  as  to  royal  state. 


FAUST  247 

EMPEROE. 

Despatch,  despatch  !     How  long  are  we  to  wait  ? 

ASTROLOGER. 

Such  urgent  longing,  pray,  sir,  moderate. 

First  finish  off  the  motley  masquing  .show. 

A  mind  distraught  conducts  not  to  the  goal. 

We  must  to  settled  calm  compose  our  soul, 

And  earn  by  what's  above  what  is  below. 

Who  would  have  good  things  must  himself  be  good. 

Who  would  have  joy  must  temper  down  his  blood. 

Who  would  have  wine  must  lay  ripe  clusters  by,  — 

Who  miracles,  his  faith  must  fortify. 

EMPEROR. 

Then  be  the  time  in  mirth  and  frolic  spent, 
And  welcomer  will  be  the  coming  Lent ! 
Meanwhile  more  merrily,  whate'er  befall, 
We'll  celebrate  the  roaring  Carnival. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  merit's  coupled  with  success 
Is  what  your  fools  can  never  guess ; 
If  they  the  wise  man's  stone  possessed, 
With  wisdom  they  would  not  be  blest. 


Scene  III.  —  Spacious  Hall,  with  Apartments  adjoin- 
ing embellished  for  a  masquerade. 

HERALD. 

Expect  not  here  old  German  fancies, 
Devils'  and  fools'  and  dead  men's  dances ; 
A  fete  awaits  you  gay  and  bright. 
Our  master,  when  he  went  to  Rome, 


248  FAUST 

Has  for  his  profit,  your  delight, 

Crossed  the  high  Alps,  and  thence  brought  home 

To  his  fair  realm  a  royal  right. 

There  at  the  holy  feet  bowed  down, 

That  right  he  first  devoutly  sought, 

And,  while  he  went  to  fetch  away  his  crown, 

Away  for  us  the  fool's  cap  with  him  brought ! 

Now  we  are  all  new-born ;  and  every  man 

To  whom  the  world  has  been  his  school, 

O'er  head  and  ears  the  cap  will  snugly  pull,  — 

The  air  it  gives  him  of  a  crack-brained  fool, 

And  under  it  he  plays  sage,  as  best  he  can. 

Already  they  break  up,  I  see, 

Some  into  pairs,  some  into  groups ; 

And  in  and  out  unceasingly 

The  throng  of  choral  singers  troops. 

Well !     With  its  fooleries  untold, 

The  world  is,  as  it  was  of  old, 

A  big  fool,  not  to  be  controlled ! 

flower  girls  (sing,  accompanied  by  mandolins). 

Maids  of  Florence,  by  the  splendour 
Of  your  Court  drawn  here  are  we, 

And  our  tribute  thus  we  render, 
Decked  in  all  our  bravery. 

Woven  into  our  nut-brown  tresses 
Bright  flowers  manifold  we  bear, 

Silken  streamers,  silken  jesses 
Join  to  prank  it  gaily  there. 

For  we  hold  it  meritorious, 

And  a  thing  to  make  us  dear, 
That  our  flowers,  by  art  made  glorious, 

Bloom  and  blow  through  all  the  year. 


FAUST  249 

Sprays  of  every  hue  commingle, 

In  symmetric  order  placed  ; 
You  may  slight  them,  taken  single, 

But  the  mass  contents  your  taste. 

Comely  are  we  to  the  eye,  as 

Girls  should  be  so  gay  and  smart, 

For  the  woman's  native  bias 
Closely  is  allied  with  art. 

HERALD. 

Show  your  baskets  richly  freighted, 

Those  that  on  your  heads  are  pressed, 
Those  with  which  your  arms  are  weighted ; 

Let  each  choose  what  likes  him  best. 
Quick  !     Till  all  with  leaf  and  alley 

Semblance  of  a  garden  bears. 
Who  but  fain  with  such  would  dally, 

Dealers  lovely  as  their  wares  ? 

GARDEN    GIRLS. 

Choose,  then,  each  at  fancy  gleaning  — 

Freely  choose,  and  huckster  not ! 
Tell  in  few  words,  full  of  meaning, 

Every  one  what  he  hath  got. 

olive  -  branch  (with  fruit  upon  it). 

Flowery  blooms  I  envy  none, 
Strife  of  every  kind  I  shun ; 

It  doth  with  my  nature  jar. 
Yet  earth  holds  no  gem  more  fair, 
Pledge  and  token  everywhere 

Of  peace,  and  what  its  blessings  are. 
To-night,  I  hope,  'twill  be  my  place 
Some  fair  and  worthy  head  to  grace  I 


!5<>  FAUST 

wheat -wreath  (golden). 

Nought  more  winning-sweet  attireth 
Than  the  gifts  by  Ceres  sent ; 

What  man  most  for  use  desireth, 
Be  your  fairest  ornament ! 

FANCY   WREATH. 

Motley  flowers,  resembling  mallows, 
Strangely  peep  from  mosses  green ; 

These  are  things  that  fashion  hallows, 
Though  in  nature  never  seen. 

FANCY  NOSEGAY. 

What  my  name  is,  to  declare 
Theophrastus  would  not  dare ; 
Yet  I  have  my  hope  I  shall 
Please  a  many,  if  not  all. 
She  that  in  her  hair  will  wind  me, 
She  that  on  her  breast  will  bind  me, 
Shall,  if  with  a  will  she  do  it, 
Find  she  has  no  cause  to  rue  it. 

CHALLENGE. 

Gaudy  fancies,  let  them  flower 
For  the  fashion  of  the  hour, 
Form  in  guises  wondrous  moulded, 
Such  as  nature  ne'er  unfolded  ! 
Golden  bells  and  sprays  of  green 
Peer  out  flowing  locks  between. 
But  we  — 

ROSEBUDS 

Shrink  from  sight. 
Happy  who  on  us  doth  light ! 
When  the  winds  of  summer  blow, 


FAUST  251 

Roses  kindle  then  and  glow  ; 
Who  such  happiness  would  miss? 
Promise,  then,  fulfilment,  this 
Is  in  Flora's  realm  the  rule ! 
Eye,  and  sense,  and  heart  fed  full ! 
[The  Gakden  Girls  arrange  their  wares  tastefully 
under  green  alleys. 

gardener  (song  accomp anted  by  theorbos). 

Flowery  blooms,  where  you  have  placed  them, 

Charmingly  your  head  adorn, 

So  our  fruits  you  will  not  scorn ; 
They'll  delight  you,  if  you  taste  them. 

Magnum  bonums,  cherries,  peaches, 

Dusky  are  of  hue  ;  but  buy  ! 

Worst  of  judges  is  the  eye  ; 
Trust  what  tongue  or  palate  teaches. 

Let  all  come  where,  gladdening  eyes 

And  taste,  the  choicest  fruits  invite  them ; 

Men  on  roses  poetise, 

Apples,  they  perforce  must  bite  them. 

To  your  bounteous  bloom  of  youth 

Grant  us  leave,  then,  to  ally  us, 
And  our  ripest  wares,  in  sooth, 

Shall  on  you  be  lavished  by  us. 

In  alleys  gay  that  wind  about, 

In  the  shade  of  pleached  bowers, 
You'll  find  all  you  want  laid  out, 

Blossoms,  foliage,  fruit,  and  flowers. 
[Singing  alternately,  accompanied  by  guitars  and 
theorbos,  the  two   Choirs  proceed  to    arrange 
their  wares  in  rows  one  above  the  other,  and 
to  offer  them  for  sale. 


252  FAUST 

Mother  and  Daughter, 
mother. 

O  lass,  when  you  first  came  to  the  light, 

A  bonny  wee  hood  I  made  ye ; 
Your  limbs  were  so  lissome,  your  face  so  bright, 

You  were  quite  a  dainty  lady. 
What  a  bride  you'll  make  !  to  myself  I  said, 

With  figure  and  face  so  sunny, 
And  already  I  pictured  you  wooed  and  wed 

By  a  suitor  with  heaps  of  money. 

But  years  they  have  come,  and  have  passed  again, 

And,  alas !  you  are  left  on  my  hands  still ; 
For  somehow  or  other  the  marrying  men 

Sweep  by  you,  and  none  of  them  stand  still. 
No  fault  of  yours !     For  with  one  you  dance, 

And  flirt  it  and  foot  it  sprightly  ; 
On  another  you  smile  with  a  coy  kind  glance, 

And  cling  to  his  elbow  tightly. 

Picnic  or  party,  'twas  all  the  same, 
However  we  might  devise  them ; 
Forfeits,  Third  Man,  do  kind  of  game 

Could  into  an  offer  surprise  them. 
But  all  the  fools  are  let  loose  to-day, 

And  they're  brimming  with  silly  rapture ; 
So,  dearest,  your  charms  without  stint  display, 
And  one  of  them  you  may  capture ! 

[Girl  playfellows,  young  and  beautiful,  join  the 
groups,  and  break  out  into  a  loud  chatter  of 
mtctual  confidences.  Fishermen  and  bird- 
catchers  with  nets,  fishing-rods,  timer1  twigs, 
and  other  implements  of  their  era//,  enter 
and  mingle  with  the  girls.  Mutual  attempts 
to  attract  attention,  to  catch,  to  escape,  and  to 
hold  faso,  give  occasion  for  pleasant  inter- 
change of  talk  and  banter. 


FAUST  253 

WOODCUTTERS  {enter,  boisterous  and  ungainly). 

Room !  room  !  give  place  ! 
We  must  have  space  ! 
Trees  we  fell  ; 
Down  as  we  tear  them, 
They  crash  in  the  dust ! 
Off  as  we  bear  them, 
Come  push  and  thrust. 
This  to  our  praise, 
Look,  that  ye  tell ! 
Were  no  rough  men 
To  work  in  the  land, 
Where,  tell  me,  then, 
Would  your  fine  folks  stand  ? 
Tins  truth,  forget  it  not, 
Stretched  at  your  ease, 
For,  if  we  sweated  not, 
You  all  would  freeze  ! 

PUNCHINELLOS  (awkward,  almost  silly). 

Fools  are  ye,  hacks, 

Born  with  bent  backs  ! 

We  the  wise,  who 

Burden  ne'er  knew ! 

For,  look  ye,  our  caps, 

Our  jackets  and  flaps, 

We  carry  them  lightly, 

Gaily  and  sprightly  — 

We,  ever  idle, 

Saunter  and  sidle, 

Slippers  on  feet, 

Through  market  and  street, 

There  to  stand  gaping, 

Crowing  and  japing  ; 

Under  the  hubbub  loud, 

Through  the  thick  thronging  crowd, 


254  FAUST 

Eel -like  we  slip  off, 
In  a  mass  trip  off, 
A  rumpus  to  raise. 
Whether  you  praise, 
Or  whether  you  blame, 
'Tis  to  us  all  the  same ! 


pakasites  (with  a  wheedling  air). 

Ye  porters,  stout  of  thew, 

And  their  own  brothers,  you 

Charcoal  that  burn, 

Are  the  men  for  our  turn. 

For  bowing  and  scraping, 

Assenting  and  smiling, 

Fine  phrases  shaping, 

Obscure  and  beguiling, 

Framed  to  blow  hot 

Or  cold,  or  what  not, 

Just  the  moment  to  please ; 

What  profit  all  these  ? 

Fire  might  be  given 

Straight  out  of  heaven, 

In  volume  enormous ; 

But  how  would  it  warm  us, 

Had  we  no  billet, 

No  coal-heaps  to  throw 

On  our  fireplace,  and  fill  it 

With  gladdening  glow  ? 

Then  the  steaming  and  roasting, 

The  stewing  and  toasting ! 

The  real  gourmet, 

The  licker  of  dishes, 

Scents  the  roast  by  the  way, 

And  surmises  the  fishes. 

This  incites  him  to  ply 

A  robust  knife  and  fork 


FAUST  255 


When  his  host  says,  Come,  try  ! 
And  he  tackles  to  work. 


dkunken  man  (in  a  stupor). 

Oh,  this  day  shall  be  happy  beyond  all  measure, 

I  feel  so  jolly  and  free ! 
Songs  to  delight  you,  and  holiday  leisure, 

I  have  brought  you  along  with  me. 
And  that's  why  I  drink  !     Drink,  drink  ! 
Join  glass  to  glass,  boys  !     Clink,  clink  ! 
You  behind  there,  come  out  to  the  light ! 
Strike  your  glass  upon  mine  !     All  right ! 

My  wife  she  jeered  at  this  coat  of  motley, 

And  railed  as  though  she  my  ears  would  pull ; 

She  fleered  and  sneered,  till  I  felt  it  hotly, 
And  called  me  a  mumming,  masking  fool. 

But  I  drink  for  all  that !    Drink,  drink  ! 

Let  every  glass  ring !     Clink,  clink  ! 

Ye  masking  mummers,  come,  all  unite ! 

When  the  glasses  go  clink,  all's  right ! 

Never  say  I'm  cracked !  for  my  boast  is, 

I  know,  when  I  want,  where  to  get  my  fill ! 

If  my  host  won't  trust  me,  why,  there's  the  hostess ; 
And  if  she  won't  do  it,  the  maiden  will. 

So  I  drink  at  all  times  !     Drink,  drink  ! 

You  fellows  there,  up  !     Clink,  clink  ! 

Join  glass  to  glass !     Keep  it  up  all  night ! 

Things  now,  I've  a  notion,  are  perfectly  right ! 

Leave  things  as  they  are  !     The  joys  they've  made  me, 
What  better  could  mortal  wish  to  his  hand  ? 

All  right !  let  me  he  here  where  I  have  laid  me, 
For  now  on  my  legs  I  can  no  more  stand  ! 


256  FAUST 

CHORUS. 

Every  good  fellow,  drink  !  drink ! 

Drain  down  your  glasses,  clink,  clink ! 

To  bench  and  to  board  stick  while  you  are  able ; 

He's  done  for,  that  fellow  there  under  the  table  ! 
[The  Herald  announces  poets  of  various  kinds, 
Poets  of  Nature,  Court  and  Bitter  Singers, 
bards  sentimental  and  gushing.  In  the 
throng  of  competitors  no  one  will  allow  the 
other  to  obtain  a  hearing.  One  of  them 
throws  out  a  few  words  as  he  slips  past. 


SATIRIST. 

Know  ye  what  were  the  sweetest  thing 

For  me,  a  poet  among  poets  here  ? 
This !     Were  I  free  to  say  and  sing 

What  none  of  them  all  would  wish  to  hear. 

[The  Night  and  Churchyard  Poets  send  apolo- 
gies, because  they  are  just  at  that  moment 
engaged  in  an  interesting  conversation  with 
a  Vampyre  that  has  made  its  appearance  re- 
cently, out  of  which  a  new  kind  of  poetry 
may  perhaps  be  developed.  The  Herald  has 
to  accept  their  excuses,  and  in  the  meantime 
summons  the  Greek  Mythology,  which,  even 
in  modern  masquerading  costume,  loses  neither 
character  nor  charm. 


The  Graces. 

aglaia. 

Into  life  we  carry  grace  ! 
In  your  givings  give  it  place. 


FAUST  257 


HEGEMONE. 


In  receiving  grace  retain  ! 


J6  & 


Sweet  it  is  a  wish  to  gain 


EUPHROSYNE. 


And  in  days  of  thoughtful  mood, 
Let  grace  sweeten  gratitude. 


The  PARCiE. 

ATROPOS. 

Me,  the  eldest,  have  they  wooed  on, 
Here  among  you  all  to  spin ; 

Much  to  think  of,  much  to  brood  on, 
Lies  life's  fragile  thread  within. 


*o' 


That  it  may  be  pliant,  tender, 
Flax  the  finest  still  I  choose ; 

Smooth  to  make  it,  even,  and  slender, 
I  shall  deftest  fingers  use. 

Should  the  dance's  joyous  eddies 

Pulses  all  too  quick  awake, 
Think  how  very  frail  this  thread  is, 

And  be  wary  !     It  may  break. 

CLOTHO. 

Know,  of  late  years  they  confided 
Unto  me  the  shears  of  dread  ; 

For  the  way  our  elder  plied  it 
Had  its  power  discredited. 

Spinnings  worthless  quite,  she  bore  them 
Through  long  years  of  life  and  bloom ; 


258  FAUST 

Threads  of  promise  rare,  she  shore  them, 
Hurried  to  a  timeless  tomb  ! 

I  myself  made  many  a  blunder 

In  my  young  and  headstrong  years ; 

Now  to  keep  my  rashness  under, 
In  its  sheath  I  keep  the  shears. 

Gladly  then  my  hands  I  fetter ; 

Kindly  I  your  sports  survey  ; 
In  these  hours  of  ease,  what  better 

Than  give  mirth  its  fullest  play  ? 

LACHESIS. 

To  me,  whose  judgment  wavers  never, 
Was  the  task  of  order  given ; 

So  my  spindle,  circling  ever, 
Never  has  been  over-driven. 

Threads  around  and  round  it  playing, 

I  to  each  its  path  assign, 
None  I  suffer  to  go  straying, 

All  iuto  the  ball  I  twine. 

Could  I  pause,  myself  forgetting, 

For  the  world  my  heart  would  ache  ; 

Days  and  years  sink  to  their  setting, 
She  that  weaves  the  skein  will  take. 


HERALD. 

These  that  are  coming  now  you  will  not  know, 
How  versed  soe'er  in  ancient  lore  ye  be  ; 

Gazing  on  these,  who  work  such  worlds  of  woe, 

Guests  you  would  think  them,  men  were  glad  to  see. 


FAUST  259 

The  Furies  they ;  none  will  believe  us ;  kind, 
Of  comely  presence,  fair  withal,  and  young : 

But  fall  into  their  hands,  and  you  will  find 
How  serpent-cruelly  these  doves  have  stung ! 

Crafty  they  are,  'tis  true ;  but  nowadays, 
When  every  fool  for  failings  craves  renown, 

Even  they,  not  coveting,  as  angels,  praise, 

Own  they're  the  plagues  of  country  and  of  town. 

ALECTO. 

What  boots  such  talk  ?     You'll  trust  us  all  the  same : 
For  we  are  pretty,  young,  sweet  coaxing  dears ; 

If  you've  a  swain  has  set  your  heart  aflame, 
We'll  go  on  pouring  flattery  in  his  ears. 

Till  we  dare  tell  him,  eye  to  eye,  his  fair 
Has  smiles  for  other  men  as  well  as  him,  — 

That,  if  he's  pledged  his  troth,  he'd  best  beware, 
For  she's  a  fool,  crook-backed,  and  halt  of  limb. 

And  we  can  make  the  lady  wretched  too ; 

Some  weeks  ago  her  friend  said  slighting  things 
Of  her  to  some  one  else.     They  may,  'tis  true, 


Be  reconciled ;   still  we  have  left  our  stings. 


MEGjERA. 

That's  but  a  joke  !     I  wait  till  they  are  wed, 
Then  set  to  work,  and  poison  —  such  my  powers  - 

Bliss,  when  it  seems  more  surely  perfected ; 

Men,  they  are  changeful  as  the  changing  hours. 

Let  what  he  yearned  for  once  be  won,  all's  o'er, 
His  rapture  cools,  the  prize  its  charm  has  lost ; 

For  something  else  he  madly  yearns  still  more, 
Flies  from  the  sun,  and  seeks  to  warm  the  frost. 


260  FAUST 

Asmodi  here  I  bring,  my  henchman  true ; 

Well  does  he  work  my  will  in  such  affairs, 
Mischief  broadcast  at  the  right  time  to  strew, 

And  so  destroy  the  human  race  in  pairs. 

TISIPHONE. 

Poison,  dagger,  not  backbiting, 
Mix  I,  whet  I,  for  the  traitor ; 
Lov'st  thou  others,  sooner,  later, 
Shalt  thou  feel  destruction  smiting. 

Turn  to  gall  and  wormwood  must 
What  in  sweetness  was  abounding  ; 
Here  no  bargaining,  no  compounding ! 
Suffer  as  ye  wrought!     'Tis  just! 

Let  none  say,  "  Forgive,  forgive  ! " 
To  the  rocks  my  plaint  I  bring. 
Hark  !     "  Eevenge  ! "  the  echoes  ring ; 
Who  betrays,  he  shall  not  live ! 

HERALD. 

Please,  step  a  little  back,  you  there  behind ; 
For  what  comes  next  is  of  no  common  kind. 
Onward  a  mountain  works  its  way,  you  see, 
Swathed  on  its  flanks  in  gorgeous  tapestry. 
Long  tusks,  a  snake-like  snout,  its  head  are  on ; 
A  mystery  !     But  I'll  show  the  key  anon. 
Gracefully  on  its  neck  a  fair  girl  rides, 
And  with  a  slender  staff  its  movements  guides ; 
Another  stands  above,  of  stately  height, 
Begirt  with  radiance  dazzling  to  the  sight. 
Two  noble  dames  walk,  chained,  on  either  side, 
One  blithe  and  bright,  one  sad  and  sober-eyed ; 
One  yearns  to  be,  one  feels  that  she  is,  free. 
Let  each  of  these  declare,  who,  what  is  she. 


FAUST  261 

FEAR. 

Through  this  revel  wild  the  light 
Of  lamps  and  torches  flares  around ; 

Traitor  faces  throng  my  sight, 
And  I,  alas !  in  chains  am  bound. 

Hence,  ye  laughers,  brainless,  loud, 
From  your  grins  I  shrink  in  fear ; 

All  that  mean  me  mischief  crowd 
Close  to-night  around  me  here. 

Here  a  friend  has  grown  a  foe ; 

Head  him  through  his  mask  I  may : 
There  is  one  would  kill  me ;  lo  ! 

Now,  found  out,  he  slinks  away ! 

Ah,  how  gladly  would  I  fly 

Through  the  wide  world  anywhere ! 

But  destruction  dogs  me  —  I 

Hang  'twixt  darkness  and  despair. 

HOPE. 

Hail,  beloved  sisters,  hail ! 
If  these  mumming  sports  prevail 
Here  to-night,  as  yester-e'en, 
Yet  to-morrow,  well  I  ween, 
You  will  doff  your  masking  gear. 
If  we  find  no  special  pleasure 
In  the  torches'  flare,  we  shall 
Anon  in  days  of  sunny  leisure, 
And  with  none  to  thwart  us  near, 
Now  with  others,  now  alone, 
Eoam  at  will,  by  waters  clear, 
Meads  with  bright  flowers  overgrown. 
Living  lives  exempt  from  care, 
With  nor  want  nor  idlesse  there. 


262  FAUST 

Welcome  guests  where'er  we  go, 
In  we  pass  with  easy  mind ; 
For  the  best  of  cheer,  we  know, 
Somewhere  we  are  sure  to  find. 


PRUDENCE. 

Two  of  men's  worst  foes  are  these ; 

In  chains  I  hold  them  —  Hope  and  Fear 
From  the  crowd  they  else  would  seize. 

You  are  saved.     A  pathway  clear  ! 

I  this  live  Colossus  lead ; 

Though  a  tower  is  on  his  back, 
Unfatigued,  with  steady  speed, 

See,  he  climbs  the  steepest  track ! 

But  upon  its  summit,  lo  ! 

A  goddess,  with  wings  swift  and  wide 
Waving  lightly  to  and  fro, 

As  she  turns  to  every  side ! 

Light  plays  round  her,  pure  and  glorious, 
Sheds  afar  a  wondrous  sheen ; 

Victory  is  her  name  —  victorious 
Goddess  of  great  deeds,  and  queen ! 


ZOILO  -  THERSITES. 

Ugh  !  ugh  !     I  come,  though  no  one  call 

Fools  that  you  are,  I  chide  you  all ; 

But  what  I  chiefly  will  not  spare 

Is  Madam  Victory  up  there  ! 

With  her  white  wings,  she  fancies,  she 

An  eagle  at  the  least  must  be, 


FAUST  263 

And  that,  where'er  she  looks  or  stirs, 
Country  and  people  both  are  hers. 
But  let  some  field  of  fame  be  won, 
And  straight  my  fighting  gear  I  don. 
When  high  turns  low,  and  low  turns  high, 
The  crooked  straight,  the  straight  awry  — 
Then,  only  then,  I  feel  aglow ; 
All  through  the  globe  I'd  have  things  so. 


HERALD. 

Then,  thou  vile  cur,  the  swashing  blow 

Of  my  good  staff  on  thee  I  lay ! 

Now  crawl  and  wriggle  as  you  may ! 

How  quickly  has  the  dwarfish  elf 

Up  in  a  bundle  rolled  himself ! 

The  ball  becomes  an  egg !  —  oh  wonder !  — 

Puffs  itself  out,  and  bursts  asunder ! 

Out  comes  a  strange  twin-growth  quite  pat, 

An  adder  one,  and  one  a  bat. 

One  crawls  off  in  the  dust ;  his  brother 

Up  to  the  roof  flies  like  a  bird : 

Outside  they'll  shortly  join  each  other, 

There  I've  no  wish  to  make  ,a  third. 


MURMURS. 

Come  on  !     They're  dancing  there  behind. 
No !     To  be  off  I  have  a  mind. 
Do  you  not  feel,  how  all  about 
Us  flits  the  ghost  and  goblin  rout  ? 
Now  they  go  swish  above  my  hair  — - 
About  my  feet  I  feel  them  there ! 
None  have  been  hurt  in  flesh  or  bone, 
But  all  are  into  panic  thrown. 
The  sport  is  wholly  spoiled  ;  but  this 
Was  what  these  monsters  wished,  I  wis. 


264  FAUST 

HERALD. 

Since  unto  me  the  Herald's  task 

Has  been  entrusted  for  our  mask, 

I  watch  the  door  with  anxious  care, 

Lest  aught  amiss  should  unaware 

Into  our  festive  circle  steal. 

No  terror  for  myself  I  feel, 

But  much  I  fear,  the  airy  crew 

Of  ghosts  may  slip  the  windows  through ; 

Nor  could  I,  if  with  you  they  mix, 

Protect  you  from  their  wizard  tricks. 

The  dwarf  looked  ominous  to  begin, 

And  now  a  swarm  comes  pouring  in. 

What  every  figure  means,  am  I 

In  duty  bound  to  signify  ; 

But  how  may  I  expound  to  you 

What  is  to  me  a  mystery  too  ? 

To  clear  things  up,  assist  me  all ! 

What's  this,  winds  yonder  through  the  hall  ? 

A  gorgeous  chariot  sweeps  along, 

Drawn  by  a  team  of  four-in-hand ; 

And  yet  it  does  not  part  the  throng  — 

I  see  no  crowd  about  it  stand. 

Far  off  with  many-coloured  beams 

It  shines,  while  flitting  round  it  gleams 

The  light  of  many  a  starry  zone, 

As  from  a  magic  lantern  thrown. 

On,  on,  it  snorts  with  giant  force ! 

Room  there  !     I  shudder ! 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

Stay  your  course ! 
Ye  coursers,  fold  your  wings  !     Obey 
The  bridle's  well-accustomed  sway. 
Rein  in  yourselves,  whilst  you  I  rein ; 
When  I  incite,  dash  on  amain. 


FAUST  265 

Unto  these  halls  due  honour  show. 

Look  how  the  people,  row  on  row, 

Keep  gathering  round  with  wondering  eyes ! 

Speak,  herald,  speak,  in  proper  wise, 

Before  we  go,  our  name  to  tell, 

And  who  and  what  we  are  as  well ; 

For  we  are  allegories  —  so 

Us  you  are  clearly  bound  to  know ! 

HERALD. 

Name  you  I  cannot.     Easier  far 
It  were  to  paint  you  as  you  are. 

BOY -CHARIOTEER. 

Essay  it  then. 

HERALD. 

That  you  are  fair 
And  young  withal,  one  must  declare ; 
A  boy  half-grown ;  yet  women  fain 
Would  see  you  fully  grown.     Tis  plain, 
You'll  prove  in  time  a  pretty  rake, 
And  with  the  sex  rare  havoc  make. 


BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

Not  badly  said.     Proceed  !  and  see 
If  of  the  riddle  you  can  find  the  key. 


HERALD. 

Dark  flashing  eyes,  locks  black  as  night,  and  there 
A  jewelled  circlet  'mid  the  blackness  glowing ; 
A  robe  that  falls  in  graceful  folds  you  wear, 
Down  from  the  shoulders  to  the  buskins  flowing. 
With  purple  hem,  and  fringe  of  tissue  rare, 


266  FAUST 

Rail  at  you  for  a  girl  one  fairly  might ; 
Yet  even  now,  for  weal  or  woe,  you'd  be 
For  girls  themselves  an  object  of  delight ; 
They'd  give  you  lessons  in  love's  ABC. 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

And  he,  this  stately  form,  that  gleams 
Enthroned  this  car  of  mine  within  ? 

HERALD. 

A  very  king,  rich,  mild,  he  seems, 
Whose  grace  it  were  rare  luck  to  win. 
Nought's  left  for  him  to  wish  for  here ; 
Quick  to  descry  where  aught  is  wanting, 
Wealth,  state,  to  him  are  far  less  dear 
Than  the  pure  joy  of  giving,  granting. 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

To  stop  with  this  will  not  avail ; 
You  must  describe  in  more  detail. 


HERALD. 

What's  worthiest  words  never  drew. 
But  the  broad  healthy  visage,  fine 
Full  mouth,  the  cheeks  of  ruddy  hue, 
That  'neath  the  jewelled  turban  shine, 
His  flowing  vestments'  rich  array,  — 
What  of  his  bearing  shall  I  say  ? 
In  him  one  used  to  rule  I  see. 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

Plutus,  the  God  of  Wealth,  is  he. 
He  comes  himself  in  regal  state ; 
The  Emperor's  need  of  him  is  great. 


FAUST  267 

HEKALD. 

Now  of  yourself  the  What  and  How  proclaim  ! 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

I  am  Profusion,  Poesy  my  name  ! 

The  poet  I,  who  works  to  noblest  ends 

When  his  best  wealth  he  most  profusely  spends. 

Eich  beyond  measure,  too,  I  am ;  and  dare 

Myself  in  this  with  Plutus  to  compare. 

To  dance  and  revel  I  give  charm  and  soul, 

And  what  he  lacks,  dispense  without  control. 

HERALD. 

This  vaunt  becomes  you  well ;  but  we 
Some  of  these  arts  of  yours  would  see. 

BOY  -  CHARIOTEER. 

I  snap  my  fingers  !     There  !     And  lo  ! 
Around  the  car  what  gleam  and  glow ! 
Out  leaps  a  string  of  pearls ! 

[Goes  on  snapping  his  fingers. 
And  here 
Are  golden  clasps  for  throat  and  ear ! 
Combs,  too,  and  heaps  of  diadems, 
And  rings  ablaze  with  rarest  gems ! 
Small  flames,  too,  here  and  there  I  scatter ; 
Kindle  or  not,  is  no  great  matter. 

HERALD. 

How  these  good  people  snatch  and  rush  ! 
The  giver's  self  they  almost  crush. 
'Tis  like  a  dream,  the  way  gems  fly 
Off  from  his  fingers,  far  and  nigh. 
But  lo  !  another  juggling  sleight ! 
A  sorry  prophet  gets  the  wight 


2  68  FAUST 

From  what  so  eagerly  he  clutched ; 

The  gift  slips  off  as  soon  as  touched  ! 

The  pearls  unstring  themselves,  and  all 

About  his  hand  cockchafers  crawl, 

He  shakes  them  off,  poor  fool,  and  straight 

They  buzz  and  flutter  round  his  pate. 

What  others  thought  a  solid  prize 

Turns  iuto  flighty  butterflies. 

For  all  his  promises  so  fine, 

The  knave  gives  only  golden  shine ! 

BOY    CHARIOTEER. 

Masks,  I  observe,  you  indicate  full  well, 
But  to  proclaim  what  lives  within  the  shell 
Is  no  part  of  a  herald's  courtly  task ; 
That  doth  a  keener  insight  ask. 
But  wrangle  I  abhor ;  my  lord,  and  king, 
To  thee  I  turn  my  speech  and  cmestioning. 

[Turning  to  Plutus. 
Didst  not  to  me,  their  course  to  guide, 
This  fourfold  fiery  team  confide  ? 
Drive  I  not  well,  thou  standing  o'er  me  ? 
Do  I  not  reach  the  goals  thou  set'st  before  me  ? 
Have  I  not  known,  with  daring  sweep, 
The  palm  for  thee  to  win  and  keep  ? 
Often  for  thee  as  I  have  fought, 
When  have  I  ever  failed  ?     And  now, 
If  the  proud  laurel  decks  thy  brow, 
Have  not  my  brain  and  hand  the  chaplet  wrought  ? 

PLUTUS. 

If  need  there  be  that  I  my  tribute  pay, 
Soul  of  my  soul  art  thou  ! "  I  gladly  say. 
Thy  acts  are  echoes  of  my  mind  and  heart ; 
Far,  far  more  wealthy  than  myself  thou  art. 


FAUST  269 

As  guerdon  for  thy  services,  I  rate 
The  bays  more  high  than  all  my  crowns  of  state. 
Then  hear  me  all  aloud  declare  my  mind, 
"  My  darling  sod,  in  thee  great  joy  I  find ! " 

BOY   CHARIOTEER  (to  the  crowd). 

The  greatest  gifts  my  hand  shakes  out ; 
See !  I  have  sent  them  all  about. 
On  this,  and  now  on  yonder  head 
A  flamelet  glows,  which  I  have  shed ; 
From  one  it  to  another  leaps, 
Slips  off  from  this,  by  that  it  keeps ; 
Now  here  and  there  it  shoots  on  high, 
And  flames  with  short-lived  brilliancy, 
But,  with  the  most,  burns  sad  and  low, 
And  then  goes  out  before  they  know. 

CHATTER    OF    WOMEN. 

The  man,  up  yonder  on  his  feet, 
Beyond  all  question  is  a  cheat. 
Crouching  behind  is  Hauswurst,  so 
By  thirst  and  hunger  wasted  low, 
As  never  Hanswurst  was  before. 
Pinch  him,  he  will  not  feel  it  sore. 

THE    STARVELING. 

Avaunt,  ye  odious  womenkind ! 

I  know  I'm  never  to  your  mind. 

Whilst  dames  their  households  overhauled, 

Then  I  was  Avaritia  called : 

Then  flourished  in  our  homes  content, 

For  much  came  in,  out  nothing  went ! 

My  care  was  all  for  chest  and  bin ! 

Folks  tell  us  now,  this  was  a  sin  ! 

But  as  the  wife  in  these  last  days 

Has  quite  given  up  those  saving  ways, 


270 


FAUST 

And,  as  all  evil  payers  are, 
Has  more  desires  than  cash  by  far, 
Her  husband  has  a  deal  to  bear ; 
Debts  crowd  upon  him  everywhere. 
All  that  she  earns  by  spinning  goes 
In  treating  swains,  or  in  fine  clothes ; 
Richly  she  feeds,  drinks  largely  too, 
With  paramours,  a  baleful  crew. 
So  on  gold's  charms  I  fondlier  feed ; 
And  now,  turned  masculine,  I  am  Gkeed. 

LEADER    OF    THE    WOMEN. 

Dragon  with  dragon  may  pinch  and  spare ; 
This  is  all  lying,  juggling  stuff ! 
He  comes  to  rouse  the  men,  and  they're 
Already  troublesome  enough. 

women  (en  masse). 

The  scarecrow  !     Box  his  ears  !     What,  dare 
To  threaten  us  !     As  if  he  could 
Grown  women  with  his  rubbish  scare ! 
The  dragons  are  but  paste  and  wood : 
Come,  let's  go  at  him,  squeeze  and  tear ! 

HERALD. 

Now,  by  my  staff !  keep  order  there ! 

Yet  for  my  help  there  scarce  is  need ; 

See  how  the  monsters  grim  unfurl  — 

As  swift  the  flying  crowds  recede  — 

Great  wings,  that  round  them  wave  and  swirl ! 

The  dragons  snort,  and  gnash  in  ire 

Their  scaly  jaws,  outbelching  fire : 

The  crowd  has  fled,  the  place  is  clear. 

[Plutus  descends  from  the  chariot. 
How  kingly  all  his  movements  are  ! 
The  dragons  at  his  nod  draw  near ; 


FAUST  271 

They  lift  the  coffer  from  the  car, 
And  Gold  and  Greed  on  it  appear. 
There  at  his  feet  it  stands ;  but  how 
The  thing  was  done,  I  marvel  now. 

plutus  (to  the  charioteer). 

Now  from  the  charge,  that  all  too  heavy  lay 

On  thee,  thou'rt  free  :   to  thine  own  sphere  away  ! 

Here  it  is  not ;  wild,  tawdry,  full  of  din 

Is  the  fantastic  world  here  hems  us  in. 

Only  where  thou  through  clear  untroubled  air 

Look'st  with  untroubled  eye  —  there,  only  there, 

Where  nought  delights  thee  but  the  good,  the  fair, 

Art  thou  thyself,  canst  move  with  soul  elate. 

To  solitude  then  go  !     There  thine  own  world  create ! 

BOY    CHARIOTEER. 

So  as  an  envoy  still  myself  I  prize, 

Charged  with  a  noble  mission  from  above ; 

So  thee,  as  bound  to  me  by  nearest  ties 

Of  kindred  and  of  sympathy,  I  love. 

Where  thou  art,  there  is  plenty ;  and  where  I, 

All  feel  then*  souls  enriched,  their  pulse  beat  high. 

Ofttime  from  side  to  side  men's  thoughts  incline ; 

Shall  they  to  thee  or  me  themselves  resign  ? 

Thy  votaries  may  in  idlesse  rest,  'tis  true, 

But  mine  have  always  endless  work  to  do. 

Nor  may  I  work  in  secret  and  in  shade ; 

Let  me  but  breathe,  at  once  I  am  betrayed. 

Farewell !     Thou  grantest  what  is  bliss  to  me ; 

But  back  again  I  at  a  word  will  be.     [Exit  as  he  came. 

PLUTUS. 

Now  it  is  time  to  set  the  treasures  free. 

With  the  Herald's  rod  I  strike  the  bolts,  and  lo ! 


272  FAUST 

The  chest  flies  open !     In  steel  caldrons,  see, 
Red  golden  blood  heaves,  bubbling,  to  and  fro ! 
Hard  by  are  ornaments,  ring,  chain,  and  crown ; 
It  swells  as  'twould  engulf  and  melt  them  down. 

ALTERNATING   EXCLAMATIONS    OF    THE    CROWD. 

See  here !  see  there  !     How  treasures  brim ! 

The  chest  is  full  up  to  the  rim ! 

Vessels  of  gold  melt  down,  and  whole 

Rouleaux  of  gold  by  dozens  roll. 

Ducats  leap  out,  new-minted,  bright  — 

Oh,  how  my  heart  leaps  at  the  sight ! 

All  it  desired  I  see,  and  more ; 

There  they  go  sprawling  on  the  floor  ! 

They're  offered  you.     Quick  !     On  them  swoop ! 

If  you'd  be  rich,  you've  but  to  stoop. 

We,  quick  as  lightning,  shall  the  great 

Chest  to  ourselves  appropriate. 

HERALD. 

What  would  ye,  fools  ?     Are  you  possessed  ? 
'Tis  but  a  masquerading  jest : 
To-night  we  looked  for  nothing  more. 
Think  you  we'd  give  you  gold  galore  ? 
Why,  truly,  on  occasions  such 
Counters  for  you  are  quite  too  much. 
Blockheads  !  with  you  a  quaint  device 
Grows  fact  substantial  in  a  trice. 
What's  fact  to  you, —  you,  always  fain 
To  flounder  in  delusions  vain  ? 

0  Plutus,  send  this  rabble  rout, 

1  pray  thee,  to  the  right  about ! 

PLUTUS. 

Handy  for  that  your  staff  would  be ; 
For  some  few  moments  lend  it  me. 


FAUST  273 

I  dip  it  in  the  red  heat ;  there  ! 
And  now,  ye  maskers,  have  a  care ! 
What  sparkling,  sputtering,  in  the  pot ! 
The  staff's  already  fiery  hot. 
Whoever  comes  too  near  shall  be 
Scorched  by  it  quite  remorselessly. 
Look  out !     Now  is  my  round  begun  ! 

CRIES    AND    TUMULT. 

Oh,  woe  !  oh,  woe  !  we're  all  undone  ! 
Let  him  escape,  escape  who  may. 
You  there  behind,  back,  back,  I  say! 
Hot  sparks  fly  out  into  my  face. 
On  me  the  red-hot  staff  falls  heavy  : 
We're  all  and  each  in  piteous  case ! 
Back,  back,  ye  masquerading  bevy  ! 
Back,  back  !     'Tis  madness  to  come  nigh  ! 
Oh,  had  I  wings,  away  I'd  fly ! 

PLUTUS. 

Back  hath  the  surging  throng  been  thrust ; 

And  no  one  has  been  hurt,  I  trust. 

In  sheer  dismay 

The  crowd  give  way : 

Still,  as  a  guarantee  for  order,  we 

Will  draw  a  circle  none  can  see. 

HERALD. 

'Twas  nobly  done  !     A  power  so  sage 
As  thine  must  my  best  thanks  engage. 

PLUTUS. 

Still,  friend,  be  patient.     There  will  be 
Tumult  in  plenty  presently. 


274  FAUST 


GREED. 


A  man  may  round  him  here  with  pleasure  glance, 

If  meetings  of  this  kind  his  fancy  suit, 

For  women  always  are  well  in  advance, 

When  there  be  shows  or  junketings  on  foot. 

I'm  not  yet  quite  used  up,  not  quite  pumped  dry, 

I  like  a  pretty  woman  with  the  best ; 

And,  as  to-night  it  costs  me  nothing,  I 

Will  go  a-wooing  with  especial  zest. 

Yet  as,  in  such  a  crowd  as  we  have  here, 

All  that  one  says  may  fail  to  reach  the  ear, 

I'll  try,  and,  as  I  hope  too,  with  success, 

In  pantomime  my  meaning  to  express. 

Hand,  foot,  and  gesture  will  not  do  alone, 

So  I  must  try  some  cantrip  of  my  own. 

I'll  treat  the  gold  as  though  'twere  moistened  clay, 

For  we  may  turn  this  metal  any  way. 

HERALD. 

The  meagre  fool,  what  is  he  at  ? 
Humour  in  a  scarecrow  like  that ! 
The  gold,  he  kneads  it  into  dough ; 
Soft  'neath  his  fingers  it  doth  grow, 
But,  squeeze  and  turn  it  how  he  will, 
The  mass  remains  quite  shapeless  still. 
He  to  the  women  turns,  but  they 
All  scream,  and  try  to  get  away, 
And  show  he'll  ne'er  be  in  their  books. 
There's  mischief  in  the  rascal's  looks. 
I  fear  his  lickerish  tooth  he'll  sate, 
Though  he  decorum  violate. 
Not  to  speak  out  were  sore  offence ; 
Give  me  my  staff  to  drive  him  hence ! 

PLUTUS. 

He  dreams  not  of  what  coming  dangers  loom. 
Let  him  pursue  his  pranks  a  little  longer  ; 


FAUST  275 

For  his  mad  capers  there  will  be  no  room ; 
Though  law  be  strong,  necessity  is  stronger. 
[Enter  Fauns,  Satyrs,  Nymphs,  etc.,  in  attendance 
upon  Pan,  and  her  aiding  his  approach. 

TUMULT   AND    SONG. 

From  mountain-height  and  forest-dell 
The  savage  crew  with  shout  and  yell 
Sweep  on,  and  stay  them  no  one  can ; 
They  celebrate  their  mighty  Pan. 
They  know  what  none  else  know,  and  fling 
Themselves  into  the  vacant  ring. 

PLUTUS. 

You  and  your  mighty  Pan,  I  know  you  well, 
How  bold  the  step  you've  taken  here  can  tell : 
Full  well  I  know  what's  known  to  none  beside, 
So  throw  our  narrow  bounds  here  open  wide. 
Good  luck  attend  you,  even  to  overflowing ! 
Great  marvels  may  anon  befall. 
They  know  not  whither  they  are  going ; 
They  have  not  looked  ahead  at  all. 

WILD    SONG. 

Ye  butterflies,  with  gewgaws  decked, 
A  rough  and  rugged  hand  expect. 
With  leaps  and  bounds  they  come  apace, 
A  stalwart  and  a  sturdy  race. 

FAUNS. 

We  are  Fauns,  and  we 

Dance  merrily ; 

Oak-wreaths  we  wear 

In  our  crisped  hair, 

And  out  from  our  curly  head  an  ear, 

Sharpened  to  finest  point,  doth  peer ; 


276  FAUST 

Our  noses  are  stumpy,  our  faces  fiat, 

But  we  lose  not  woman's  good  will  for  that ; 

The  fairest  she,  if  a  Faun  advance 

His  paw,  will  scarcely  refuse  to  dance. 


SATYR. 

The  Satyr  next  comes  bounding  in, 
With  hoof  of  goat  and  wizened  shin  — 
Both  sinewy,  of  course,  and  thin ! 
To  gaze  around  from  mountain-heights, 
Like  the  wild  chamois,  him  delights. 
There  in  the  free  air  bounding  wild, 
He  views  with  scorn  man,  woman,  child, 
Who,  'mid  the  low  vales'  smoke  and  steam, 
Deem  fondly  they  are  living  too ; 
Whilst  he,  unlettered  and  supreme, 
Reigns  sole  that  upper  region  through. 


GNOMES. 

A  pigmy  troop  comes  tripping  now, 
Not  two  by  two,  but  anyhow ; 
In  mossy  garb,  with  lamplets  lit, 
^Swiftly  they  each  through  other  flit, 
Each  working  for  himself,  and  so 
They  swarm  like  fireflies  to  and  fro  — 
Now  here,  now  there,  and  all  intent 
Upon  the  task  whereto  they're  bent. 
To  the  "  Good  People  "  near  related, 
As  rock-chirurgoeons  celebrated, 
We  cap  the  lofty  hills,  we  drain 
The  ore  from  every  teeming  vein  ; 
"  Good  luck  ! "  as  greeting  cheers  us,  while 
The  metals  up  in  heaps  we  pile. 
Tis  all  meant  for  a  worthy  end. 
All  truly  good  men  we  befriend ; 


FAUST  277 

Yet  gold  we  to  the  light  reveal, 

That  men  may  pimp  with  it  and  steal, 

And  steel  to  tyrants  proud  be  lent, 

Who  are  on  wholesale  murder  bent. 

These  three  commandments  who  shall  slight, 

Of  all  the  rest  makes  very  light. 

But  this  is  not  our  fault ;  so  you 

Should  have,  like  us,  forbearance  too. 

GIANTS. 

The  Wild  Men  we  are  called,  and  strange 
To  none  who  know  the  Harzberg  range ; 
Of  giant  bulk,  unclad,  and  strong 
As  men  of  yore,  we  tramp  along, 
A  pine-tree  stem  in  our  right  hand, 
Around  our  loins  a  padded  band. 
With  leaf  and  bough  for  apron  barred ; 
The  Pope  has  no  such  body-guard. 

CHORUS    OF   NYMPHS. 
{They  surround  the  great  Pan.) 

He  too  comes  here  ! 

All  unto  man 

In  this  earth's  sphere 

Is  imaged  clear 

In  mighty  Pan. 
Ye  merriest  of  heart,  advance, 
And  round  him  wheel  in  joyous  dance ; 
For,  being  grave,  but  also  good, 
He'd  have  men  be  of  cheerful  mood. 
Even  'neath  the  azure-vaulted  sky 
He  watches  with  unsleeping  eye : 
But  brooks  for  him  low  murmurs  keep, 
And  soft  winds  cradle  him  to  sleep, 
And,  when  at  noon  he  'gins  to  drowse. 
Stirs  not  a  leaf  upon  the  boughs ; 


278  FAUST 

Plants,  breathing  health  from  fairest  blooms, 
On  the  hushed  air  exhale  perfumes; 
The  Nymph  disports  no  more,  but,  where 
She  stood,  drops  off  in  slumber  there. 
But  if,  by  sudden  anger  stirred, 
His  voice,  his  mighty  voice,  is  heard 
Like  thunder,  or  wild  ocean's  swell, 
Which  way  to  fly  no  man  can  tell ; 
Brave  hosts  are  scattered  in  dismay 
And  heroes  quail  in  mid  melee. 
Then  honour  give  where  honour's  due  ; 
Hail  him  who  led  us  here  to  you ! 

deputation  OF  GNOMES  (to  the  great  Pan). 

Where  rich  ore  lies,  and,  brightly  shining, 
Through  rocky  fissures  thread-like  steals, 

The  rod  alone,  by  its  divining, 
The  labyrinthine  maze  reveals. 

In  troglodytic  fashion  now 

Our  home  in  sunless  caves  we  make, 

And  in  the  sunshine  pure  dost  thou 
Deal  treasures  forth  for  us  to  take. 

Hard  by  to  us  has  been  revealed 

A  vein  of  wondrous  breadth  and  scope, 

Which  promises  with  ease  to  yield 
What  to  attain  we  scarce  might  hope. 

To  make  it  sure  thou  hast  the  power  — 
Then  subject  it  to  thy  commands ; 

To  all  mankind  a  priceless  dower 
Grows  every  treasure  in  thy  hands. 

PLUTUS    (to  the  HERALD). 

All  base  misgivings  we  must  cast  away, 

And  with  composure  meet  come  what  come  may. 


FAUST  279 

Erst  thou  hast  shown  a  firm  courageous  soul. 
But  something  terrible  will  soon  fall  out, 
That  present  time  and  after-time  will  doubt ; 
So  write  it  duly  in  thy  protocol. 


HERALD. 

(Grasping  the  staff  which  Plutus  holds  in  his  hands.) 

The  dwarfs  lead  great  Pan  soft  and  slow 
To  where  the  fount  of  fire  doth  glow ; 
It  seethes  up  from  the  abyss  below, 
Then  down  to  depths  unseen  sinks  back, 
And  grim  the  wide  mouth  stands  and  black. 
Again  fierce  flames  flash  out  on  high  — 
The  great  Pan  stands  complacent  by, 
Joying  to  see  such  wondrous  sight  — 
And  pearl-foam  sparkles  left  and  right. 
How  can  he  trust  himself  so  near  ? 
He  stoops,  into  the  chasm  to  peer  — 
And  now  his  beard  falls  in :  and  he, 
With  chin  so  smooth,  who  may  he  be  ? 
His  hand  conceals  his  face  from  view. 
Now  doth  a  great  mishap  ensue. 
The  beard  takes  fire,  flies  back  again, 
And  wreath,  head,  breast,  all  blaze  up  too ; 
So  joy  is  turned  to  fear  and  pain  ! 
The  crowd  rush  to  his  aid,  but  none 
Escapes  the  spreading  flames,  not  one ; 
And,  as  they  flash  and  dart  about, 
Fresh  fire  on  every  hand  breaks  out ; 
While,  netted  in  the  burning  maze, 
A  troop  of  maskers  is  ablaze. 
But  hark !  a  cry,  that  scatters  fear 
From  mouth  to  mouth,  from  ear  to  ear ! 
O  night,  with  endless  sorrow  fraught, 
On  us  what  anguish  hast  thou  brought ! 


280  FAUST 

To-morrow's  dawn  will  tidings  bring, 
That  every  heart  with  grief  shall  wring. 
Still  from  all  sides  I  hear  the  cry, 
"  The  Emperor  is  in  agony  !  " 
Too  true,  alas  !  the  news  unmeet ! 
The  Emperor's  burning,  and  his  suite. 
Accursed  be  they  beguiled  him,  wound 
With  leaves  and  resinous  branches  round, 
In  roistering  guise  to  brawl  it  here, 
And  spread  disaster  far  and  near ! 
O  youth,  youth,  wilt  thou  never  draw 
Around  thy  joys  a  prudent  line  ? 

0  greatness,  wilt  thou  ne'er  with  law 
And  reason  boundless  power  combine? 
Now  to  the  wood  the  flames  have  spread, 
Their  forked  tongues  shoot  high  o'erhead, 
And  round  the  wooden  rafters  play  ; 
Nought  can  the  conflagration  stay  ! 
Brimmed  is  the  measure  of  our  grief ; 

1  know  not  who  may  bring  relief. 
Imperial  splendour,  rich  and  bright, 
Sinks  down  to  ashes  in  a  night. 

PLUTUS. 

Enough  of  terror  and  dismay  ! 
Now  let  help  come  into  play. 
Strike,  staff  of  power,  until  the  ground 
Quake  and  reverberate  the  sound ! 
Thou  wide  and  mantling  air,  fill  full 
Thyself  with  breezes  blowing  cool ! 
Teeming  streaks  of  vapourous  mist, 
Come,  and  round  us  coil  and  twist ; 
Close  the  fiery  ferment  over  ! 
Cloudlets,  drizzling,  dropping,  drenching, 
Dew-distilling,  gently  hover, 
Everywhere  the  danger  quenching, 
Turning  by  your  soothing  might 


FAUST  281 


Flames  now  laden  with  affright 
Into  harmless  rosy  light ! 
When  spirits  threaten  us  with  ill, 
Tis  time  to  use  our  magic  skill. 


Scene  IV.  —  Pleasure-garden.     Morning  Sun. 

The  Emperor,  his  Court,  male  and  female.  Faust, 
Mephistopheles,  dressed  quietly  and  becomingly 
in  the  prevailing  fashion.     Both  kneel. 

FAUST. 

Dost  thou  forgive  our  trick,  sir,  with  the  fire  ? 

emperor  (beckoning  to  him  to  rise). 

Such  jests,  and  many  too,  I  much  desire. 
Sudden  I  found  me  in  a  sphere  of  flame ; 
Pluto  himself,  methought,  I  then  became. 
Girt  by  thick  night  a  cavern  round  me  lay, 
Red-hot  with  fire.     From  many  a  chasm  and  bay 
Wild  whirling  flames  by  myriads  ascended, 
And  in  an  arching  vault  their  flashing  blended. 
Up  to  the  topmost  dome  they  rose,  and  crossed, 
For  ever  kindling  and  for  ever  lost. 
Far,  far  along,  'midst  columns  all  aglow, 
I  saw  long  lines  of  people  moving  slow. 
In  a  wide  circle  round  me  then  they  drew, 
And  made  obeisance,  as  they  always  do : 
Some  of  my  Court  I  spied  within  the  ring, 
And  seemed  of  thousand  Salamanders  king. 

mephistopheles. 

And  so  you  are  ;  for  every  element 

To  own  your  sovereignty  is  well  content. 


282  FAUST 

Fire  thou  hast  proved  obedient ;  in  the  sea 

Plunge,  where  its  billows  wildest,  maddest  be, 

And  scarcely  shalt  thou  tread  the  pearl-strewn  floor, 

Ere  springs  a  stately  dome  to  arch  it  o'er ; 

Waves  of  pale  green,  with  purple  edged,  shall  there 

Sway  up  and  down,  to  rear  a  mansion  fair 

Round  thee,  the  central  point.     A  palace  home 

Attends  on  thee  wherever  thou  dost  roam. 

The  very  walls  are  all  alive,  and  flow 

With  swiftness  as  of  arrows  to  and  fro. 

Up  to  the  strange  soft  sheen  sea-wonders  throng  — 

They  dare  not  enter  in,  but  shoot  along ; 

Bright  gold-scaled  dragons  round  thee  sport  and  swim ; 

Gapes  the  grim  shark,  and  thou  canst  laugh  at  him. 

Gay  as  thy  present  Court  may  be,  and  bright, 

No  throng  like  this  has  ever  met  thy  sight. 

Yet  art  thou  not  cut  off  from  beauty  there  : 

To  that  superb  abode,  so  fresh,  so  fair, 

The  Nereids,  peering  curiously,  draw  nigh  — 

The  young  ones,  amorous  as  fish,  and  shy, 

The  old  ones  sage :  soon  Thetis  learns  thy  haunts, 

And  hand  and  lip  to  her  new  Peleus  grants. 

Anon  thy  seat  on  high  Olympus'  crest  — 

EMPEROR. 

Those  airy  regions,  you  may  let  them  rest. 
Quite  soon  enough  one  has  to  mount  that  throne. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  earth,  my  liege,  already  is  thine  own. 

EMPEROR. 

What  lucky  chance  has  brought  thee  hither  straight 
From  the  Arabian  Nights  ?     If  thou  canst  mate 
With  Scheherezade  in  inventive  skill, 
Take  this,  the  highest  proof  of  my  good  will  — 


FAUST  283 

Be  still  at  hand,  when  worries  of  the  day 
Pain  and  dispirit  me,  as  oft  they  may. 

marshal  {entering  hurriedly). 

Your  Highness,  never  did  I  think  to  live 
Tidings  of  such  supreme  good-luck  to  give 
As  these,  which  to  thy  presence  thus 
Send  me  in  transports  rapturous. 
Every  outstanding  bill  is  squared, 
The  usurer's  ruthless  claws  are  pared. 
I  from  the  pangs  of  hell  am  free ; 
In  heaven  things  could  not  brighter  be. 

commander  -  in  -  chief  (follows  hurriedly). 

Arrears  paid  off  to  the  last  sou, 

The  army's  all  sworn  in  of  new ; 

The  trooper  feels  his  blood  aflame, 

And  wench  and  tapster  make  their  game. 

EMPEROR. 

How  is't  you  breathe  so  freely  now  ? 
Furrows  no  longer  seam  your  brow. 
What  makes  you  here  so  swiftly  run  ? 

TREASURER  (entering). 
Ask  those,  sir,  who  the  work  have  done ! 

FAUST. 

"lis  meet,  the  Chancellor  the  facts  should  state. 

CHANCELLOR. 

In  my  old  days  my  happiness  how  great ! 
Hear,  then,  and  see  this  fateful  scroll,  for  this 
Has  turned  our  woe  and  wailing  into  bliss.     [Beads. 
"  Be  it  to  all  whom  it  concerneth  known, 


284  FAUST 

This  note  is  worth  a  thousand  crowns  alone, 
And,  for  a  guarantee,  the  wealth  untold, 
Throughout  the  empire  buried,  it  doth  hold. 
Means  are  on  foot  this  treasure  bare  to  lay, 
And  out  of  it  the  guarantee  to  pay." 


EMPEROR. 

Crime  I  surmise,  some  monstrous  fraud.     Oh,  shame ! 
Who  dared  to  counterfeit  the  Emperor's  name  ? 
Has  he  been  brought  to  punishment  condign  ? 

TREASURER. 

Keflect !     That  note,  sir,  thou  thyself  didst  sign 

Only  last  night.     Thou  didst  as  Pan  appear  ; 

The  Chancellor  said  to  thee,  —  we  standing  near,  — 

"  A  few  strokes  of  thy  pen,  and  so  thou'lt  seal,  — 

This  revel's  crowning  joy,  —  thy  people's  weal !  " 

These  strokes  thou  mad'st,  which  were  ere  morning-tide 

By  thousand  hands  in  thousands  multiplied. 

That  all  alike  the  benefit  might  reap, 

We  stamped  the  whole  impression  in  a  heap ; 

Tens,  thirties,  fifties,  hundreds,  off  they  flew  — 

You  can't  conceive  the  good  they  were  to  do. 

Look  at  your  town,  —  'twas  mouldering  and  half  dead  — 

Now  all  alive,  and  full  of  lustihead ! 

High  as  thy  name  stood  with  the  world,  somehow 

'Twas  never  looked  so  kindly  on  as  now. 

The  lists  of  applicants  fill  to  excess ; 

This  scrip  is  rushed  at  as  a  thing  to  bless. 

EMPEROR. 

My  people  take  it  for  good  gold,  you  say  ? 

In  Court,  in  camp,  it  passes  for  full  pay  ? 

Strange  !  strange  !     Yet  I  must  let  the  matter  drop. 


FAUST  285 

MARSHAL. 

'Twere  hopeless  now  the  flying  leaves  to  stop ; 

With  lightning  speed  they  spread  throughout  the  land. 

The  money-changers'  doors  wide  open  stand ; 

They  cash  the  notes  with  silver  and  with  gold, 

And  even  allow  a  premium,  I  am  told. 

Thence  they  reach  vendors  of  meat,  bread,  and  drinks : 

One-half  the  world  of  feasting  only  thinks  ; 

Whilst  in  its  bran-new  clothes  the  other  struts  — 

Briskly  the  tailor  sews,  the  mercer  cuts. 

Toasting  thy  health  in  taverns  never  bates, 

And  all  is  roast  and  boil  and  clattering  plates. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Who  on  the  terraced  walks  alone  shall  stray, 
Drops  on  some  fair  one,  clad  in  rich  array, 
Who  from  behind  proud  peacock-fan  will  smile 
On  him,  with  eye  on  these  same  notes  the  while, 
Which  quickly  will  love's  crowning  favours  gain, 
Whilst  wit  and  eloquence  may  plead  in  vain. 
Men  won't  be  teased  with  purse  or  scrip,  when  they 
Can  in  their  bosoms  slip  a  note  away, 
To  mate  there  snugly  with  a  billet-doux. 
Priests  lodge  them  in  their  breviaries,  too ; 
Soldiers,  to  move  more  freely,  turn  their  coins 
To  notes,  and  of  the  waist-belt  ease  their  loins. 
Pardon,  your  Majesty,  if  what  I  state 
From  this  great  work  may  seem  to  derogate. 

FAUST. 

The  superflux  of  wealth  that,  heap  on  heap, 
All  o'er  thy  realm  in  earth  lies  buried  deep, 
Is  practically  lost.     Thought  cannot  cast 
A  limit  wide  enough  for  wealth  so  vast, 
And  fancy  in  her  wildest  flight  may  strain 
To  picture  it,  yet  find  the  effort  vain ; 


286  FAUST 

But  spirits,  meet  enigmas  dark  to  face, 

Dare  on  the  boundless  boundless  faith  to  place. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Paper  like  this,  instead  of  pearls  and  gold, 
Is  handy,  for  we  know  then  what  we  hold ; 
No  need  to  change  or  chaffer !     Men  at  will 
In  love  may  revel,  drink  of  wine  their  fill : 
If  coin  they  lack,  the  changer's  prompt  with  it ; 
And  when  coin  fails,  you've  but  to  dig  a  bit. 
Chalice  and  chain  to  auction  must  be  brought ; 
But  this  good  paper,  cashed  upon  the  spot, 
Puts  skeptics,  who  dared  scoff  at  us,  to  shame. 
People,  once  used  to  it,  nought  else  will  name. 
So  henceforth  all  the  imperial  regions  round 
With  jewels,  gold,  and  paper-cash  abound. 

EMPEROR. 

This  mighty  boon  our  empire  owes  to  you ; 
Great  as  the  service,  be  the  guerdon  too  ! 
Our  kingdom's  nether  soil,  be  that  your  care. 
Who  may  so  well  protect  the  treasures  there  ? 
That  vast  well-tended  hoard  you  understand, 
And,  if  men  dig,  'tis  you  must  give  command. 
Now,  masters  of  our  Treasury,  embrace  ; 
Wear,  and  with  pride,  the  honours  of  your  place, 
Where,  linked  in  happy  union,  all  shall  know, 
The  world  above  blends  with  the  world  below. 

TREASURER. 

'Twixt  us  no  strife,  however  slight,  shall  stir : 
I  for  a  colleague  love  your  sorcerer. 

[Exit  with  Faust, 
emperor. 

As  I  dispense  my  gifts  among  you  now, 
Let  each  the  use  he'll  put  them  to  avow. 


FAUST  287 

page  (as  he  takes  the  gift). 
I  am  for  sports,  and  mirth,  and  junketings. 

another  page  (meme  jeii). 
Straightway  I'll  buy  my  sweetheart  chains  and  rings. 

lord  OF  the  bedchamber  (meme  jeu). 
My  cellar,  with  the  choicest  wine  I'll  stock  it. 

second  lord  (meme  jeu). 
The  dice  already  rattle  in  my  pocket. 

banneret  (musingly). 
I'll  free  my  castle  and  my  grounds  from  debt. 

another  banneret  (meme  jeu). 
Aside  with  other  treasures  this  I'll  set. 

EMPEROR. 

I  hoped  for  joy,  brave  heart,  fresh  enterprise  ; 
But,  knowing  you,  one  might  your  course  surmise. 
Full  well  I  note,  howe'er  your  coffers  fill, 
What  you  have  been,  you  will  continue  still. 

FOOL  (advancing). 
You're  scattering  favours ;  give  me  some,  I  pray. 

EMPEROR. 

Alive  again !     You'll  drink  them  all  away. 

FOOL. 

These  magic  leaves,  I  cannot  make  them  out. 


288  FAUST 

EMPEROR. 

Quite  so ;  you'll  make  bad  use  of  them,  no  doubt. 

FOOL. 

There  others  drop ;  what,  sir,  am  I  to  do  ? 

EMPEROR. 

Just  pick  them  up.     They're  what  were  meant  for  you. 

[Exit. 

FOOL. 

Five  thousand  crowns  !  and  all  for  me  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  then ! 
Thou  paunch  upon  two  legs,  got  up  again  ? 

FOOL. 

Not  the  first  time,  but  ne'er  such  luck  I've  met. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

So  great  your  joy,  it  puts  you  in  a  sweat. 

FOOL. 
Look  here  !     And  is  this  money's  worth  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yes,  knave ! 
You'll  get  for  it  what  throat  and  belly  crave. 

FOOL. 

Can  I  buy  farm,  house,  cattle,  then,  with  this  ? 


FAUST  289 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Of  course  !     Just  bid  !     'Twill  never  come  amiss. 

FOOL. 

What !  castle,  forest-chase,  and  fish-stream  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Good! 
I'd  like  to  see  you  a  great  lord,  I  would  ! 

FOOL. 

This  night  I'll  sleep  within  my  own  domain  !        [Exit. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (solus). 

Who  still  can  doubt  our  fool  doth  bear  a  brain  ? 


Scene  V.  —  A  Dark  Gallery. 
Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

mephistopheles. 

Why  drag  me  to  this  gloomy  corridor  ? 
Within  there  is  there  not  enough  of  sport, 
For  jest  and  trick  not  ample  scope,  and  more, 
Among  the  motley  butterflies  of  court  ? 

FAUST. 

Tush,  tush !     Time  was  when  you  were  cap  in  hand, 

Ready  to  come  and  go  at  my  command ; 

But  now  your  only  aim,  I  see, 

Is  how  to  break  your  faith  with  me. 

To  act,  however,  I  am  pressed. 

Marshal  and  chamberlain  won't  let  me  rest : 


290  FAUST 

The  emperor  wants,  and  that  with  haste, 
Paris  and  Helena  before  him  placed. 
These  paragons  of  man  and  woman  he 
Has  set  his  mind  just  as  they  lived  to  see. 
Quick,  to  the  task !     My  word  1  dare  not  break. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  promise  you  were  worse  than  mad  to  make. 

FAUST. 

You  have  forgotten,  mate,  to  what 
Your  clever  sleights  conduct  us  ;  we 
Have  made  him  rich,  and  after  that 
We  must  amuse  him  a  tout  prix. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

No  sooner  said,  you  think,  than  done  ? 

This  task  is  a  much  harder  one 

Than  ever  we  ventured  on  before. 

You  would  pierce  to  a  region  of  wonders  vast, 

And  recklessly  run  up  a  further  score 

Of  debts  you'll  be  forced  to  pay  off  at  last. 

You  think  'tis  as  easy  a  task  for  me 

To  conjure  up  Helena,  at  my  will, 

As  it  was  the  imperial  treasury 

With  flimsy,  fairy  bank-notes  to  fill. 

Witches,  imps,  goitred  dwarfs,  and  sprites, 

I  can  turn  to  all  uses,  and  place  in  all  plights, 

But,  though  not  to  be  sneezed  at,  our  ladies  below 

As  heroines  never  will  do  to  show. 

FAUST. 

The  same  old  song !     The  same  old  introduction  ! 
There's  nothing  but  uncertainties  with  you : 


FAUST  291 

You  are  the  sire  of  all  sorts  of  obstruction, 
And  must  at  every  turn  be  bribed  anew ! 
You  grumble.     Still  you'll  do  it,  I  know  well, 
And  fetch  them  here,  ere  we  ten  words  can  say. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  heathen  gentry  are  not  in  my  way ; 
They  live  within  their  own  peculiar  hell ; 
And  yet  there  is  a  way  ! 

FAUST. 

On  with  your  tale ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'm  loath  the  higher  mysteries  to  unveil. 

There  are  goddesses,  beings  of  might  supernal, 

That  sit  alone,  each  on  a  throne, 

In  the  solitudes  eternal. 

Round  them  space  is  not,  and  time  still  less ; 

To  speak  of  them  even  embarrasses. 

These  are  The  Mothers  ! 

FAUST  (starting). 

The  Mothers ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Afeared  ? 

FAUST. 

The  Mothers !  the  Mothers !     That  sounds  so  weird  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  weird  it  is.     Divinities,  to  you 

Mortals  unknown ;  we're  loath  to  name  them,  too. 


292  FAUST 

Through  depths  unplumbed  you  may  their  haunts 

invade : 
Tis  all  your  fault  that  we  require  their  aid. 

FAUST. 

And  whither  lies  the  road  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Koad  there  is  none 
To  what  has  been,  and  must  untrodden  still  be ; 
There  is  no  road  to  what  was  never  won 
By  mortal  prayer  or  vow,  nor  ever  will  be. 
Art  ready  ?     Neither  bolt  nor  bar  is  there, 
To  hinder  thy  advance,  but  everywhere 
Shalt  thou  be  drifted  by  the  empty  air. 
Canst  thou  conceive  and  fully  comprehend 
A  void  and  isolation  without  end  ? 

FAUST. 

Such  speeches  'tis  idle  with  me  to  try  ! 
They're  of  the  Witches-kitchen  kind, 
And  smack  of  a  time  that  is  long  gone  by. 
Was  I  not  doomed  to  mingle  with  mankind  ? 
To  learn  and  teach,  that  all  that  they  possess 
Is  mere  vacuity  and  emptiness  ? 
By  reason  schooled,  if  as  I  saw  I  spoke, 
Strife  and  denial  round  me  roared  and  broke, 
Turn  where  I  might,  still  baffled,  thwarted,  I 
To  wilds  and  solitudes  was  forced  to  fly, 
Till,  at  my  very  loneliness  aghast, 
I  gave  myself  up  to  the  devil  at  last. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  with  the  ocean  if  thou  wert  contending. 
And  round  thee  heaved  a  limitless  expanse, 


FAUST  293 

Yet  there,  though  death  were  in  each  wave  impending, 
Thou'dst  see  before  thee  wave  on  wave  advance. 
There  something  thou  shouldst  see  ;  see  dolphins  leap 
O'er  the  green  hollows  of  the  glassy  deep, 
See  clouds  sweep  on,  and  sun,  and  moon,  and  star, 
But  nothing  shalt  thou  see  in  that  great  void  afar ; 
Thou  shalt  not  hear  thy  very  footfall  pace, 
Nor  light  on  one  substantial  resting-place. 


FAUST. 

The  best  of  mystagogues  you  rival  quite, 

That  e'er  deluded  trustful  neophyte ! 

But  you  reverse  the  rule,  dismissing  me 

To  gain  both  strength  and  skill  from  blank  vacuity. 

You  use  me  like  the  cat,  to  scratch  for  you 

The  chestnuts  from  the  coals.     Well,  well,  go  to ! 

We'll  probe  this  business ;  and  I  hope  I  shall 

In  what  you  say  is  Nought  discover  All. 


MEPIIISTOPHELES. 

Before  we  part,  your  courage  I  commend  ! 
The  devil,  I  see,  you  fully  comprehend. 
Here,  take  this  key  ! 


FAUST. 

This  tiny  bauble  ?     No ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Take  hold  of  it,  before  you  slight  it  so. 

FAUST. 

It  grows  within  my  hand  !     It  flames,  it  lightens  ! 


294  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Mark  it  but  well,  you'll  find  its  virtue  brightens ! 
This  key  will  how  to  shape  your  course  instruct  you. 
Follow  it,  and  to  The  Mothers  'twill  conduct  you. 

faust  (shudders). 

Again  that  word !     It  strikes  nie  like  a  blow. 
What  is  there  in  that  word  to  thrill  me  so  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Art  thou  a  pedant,  at  new  words  to  scare  ? 
Familiar  phrases  only  canst  thou  bear  ? 
Nothing,  however  weird  or  strange,  should  make 
One  so  long  used  to  mightiest  marvels  quake. 

FAUST. 

I  covet  not  an  adamantine  heart. 
This  shuddering  awe  is  man's  divinest  part. 
Howe'er  the  world  may  dull  our  feelings,  still 
At  what  is  vast  and  mystical  we  thrill. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Sink,  then !     I  might  as  well  say,  Mount !     'Tis  quite 

The  same.     From  all  that  is  take  flight 

Into  the  void  and  viewless  Infinite 

Of  visionary  dreams,  and  revel  so 

'Midst  phantoms  of  the  ages  long  ago ! 

Like  clouds  they  flit  and  waver.     In  thy  hand 

Swing  high  the  key  !     Thy  body  must  not  touch  it. 

faust  (with  enthusiasm). 

'Tis  well !     I  feel  new  strength,  as  thus  I  clutch  it, 
And  for  the  mighty  task  my  breast  expand. 


FAUST  295 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 


A  flaming  tripod  shall  proclaim  thou  hast 
Into  the  nethermost  abysses  passed. 
Its  gleam  The  Mothers  unto  thee  will  show. 
Some  sit,  some  stand,  some  wander  to  and  fro ; 
Each  as  it  haps ;  strange  shapes  of  every  kind, 
The  eternal  pastime  of  the  eternal  mind, 
Circle  them  round  with  every  form  of  being. 
Thee  they  behold  not,  phantasms  only  seeing. 
See  that  thou  quail  not,  for  the  peril's  great, 
But  to  the  tripod  go  thou  forward  straight, 
And  touch  it  with  the  key ! 

[Faust  assumes  a  resolute  and  commanding  atti- 
tude with  the  key. 

Ay,  that  will  do  ! 
It  will  attend  thee  like  a  servant  true, 
And  with  it  thou,  if  fortunate,  shalt  rise 
To  earth  again,  ay,  fast  as  fancy  flies. 
And,  it  once  here,  thou  mayest  by  its  might 
Evoke  those  famed  heroic  forms  from  Night: 
The  foremost  who  has  e'er  achieved  such  feat ; 
And  when  it  is  done,  and  thy  task  complete, 
Forthwith,  by  sleights  of  magic,  timely  suited, 
The  incense  smoke  to  gods  will  be  transmuted. 


FAUST. 

And  now  what  else  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thy  spirit  downward  bend  ; 
Sink  with  a  stamp,  and,  stamping,  reascend  ! 

[Faust  stamps,  and  sinks  into  the  ground. 
Now,  if  the  key  its  power  with  him  should  lack  ? 
I'm  curious  to  see  if  he  comes  back. 


296  FAUST 

Scene  VI.  —  A  Hall  Brilliantly  Illuminated. 
Emperor,  Princes,  Courtiers,  moving  up  and  down. 

CHAMBERLAIN  (to  MEPHISTOPHELES). 

You  still  are  owing  us  the  phautoin-play. 

The  Emperor  grows  impatient.     Quick,  I  pray  3 

MARSHAL. 

He  asked  about  it  not  an  hour  ago. 

You  must  not  keep  his  Majesty  waiting  so. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  comrade  is  upon  this  business  gone ; 

He  knows  the  way  to  set  about  it ; 

This  very  moment,  never  doubt  it, 

He's  hard  at  work  to  push  it  on. 

Shut  in  his  room  from  vulgar  gaze, 

No  ordinary  sleights  he  tries, 

For  he  that  would  such  peerless  beauty  raise 

Must  use  the  highest  art,  the  magic  of  the  wise. 

MARSHAL. 

What  arts  he  uses  we  don't  care  a  pin  — 
Sir,  sir,  the  Emperor  wants  you  to  begin. 

BLONDE  (to  MEPHISTOPHELES). 

One  word,  sir !     My  complexion  now  is  clear, 
But  in  the  tiresome  summer  'tis  not  so ! 
A  hundred  freckles  then  from  ear  to  ear, 
Quite  horrid,  tawny  things,  begin  to  show. 
A  remedy  ! 


FAUST  297 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That  such  a  blonde  —  'tis  hard  !  — 
Should  every  May  be  spotted  like  the  pard ! 
Take  spawn  of  frogs,  and  tongues  of  toads  new  killed, 
At  the  moon's  fullest  craftily  distilled  ; 
This  lotion,  when  she  wanes,  apply :  the  spring 
May  come,  you'll  find  the  spots  have  taken  wing. 

BEUNETTE. 

You're  in  request.  ■    Here's  quite  a  mob  advancing. 
Oh,  sir,  a  remedy  !     A  frost-bit  foot 
Prevents  me  both  from  walking  and  from  dancing ; 
I  can't  even  curtsey  gracefully,  to  boot. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Allow  me,  child,  to  press  you  with  my  foot ! 

BEUNETTE. 

That's  very  well  'twixt  lovers  in  their  sports. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  vast  deal  more  a  tread  from  me  imports. 

Like  draws  to  like,  as  web  combines  with  woof, 

Thus  foot  heals  foot,  limb   limb.    Come  close !    And, 

mind ! 
You  need  not  think  of  answering  in  kind. 

BRUNETTE. 

Oh  !  oh  !     It  burns  !     'Twas  like  a  horse's  hoof, 
It  stamped  so  hard. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You  of  my  cure  have  proof. 
Now  you  may  dance  as  much  as  e'er  you  please, 
And  your  swain's  foot  beneath  the  table  squeeze. 


298  FAUST 

LADY  (pushing  forward). 

Make  way  for  me !     Too  heavy  are  my  woes. 
My  inmost  heart  is  racked  by  maddening  throes ! 
He  lived  but  in  my  looks  till  yesterday, 
Now  he  woos  her,  and  turns  from  me  away. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  very  sad  I     But  I  will  set  you  right. 
Up  to  his  side  you  must  contrive  to  steal. 
This  charcoal  take,  and  draw  it,  as  you  may, 
Across  his  sleeves,  cloak,  shoulder,  and  the  wight 
Shall  sweet  remorse  within  his  bosom  feel. 
Then  swallow  off  the  charcoal  —  but  no  sips 
Of  water  or  of  wine  must  cross  your  lips  — 
And  at  your  door  he  sighs  this  very  night. 

LADY. 

It  is  not  poison  ? 

mephistopheles  (offended). 

Honour  where  'tis  due  ! 
For  such  charcoal  you  must  go  many  a  mile. 
'Twas  gathered  from  a  certain  funeral  pile, 
Of  which  we  raked  the  ashes  through  and  through. 

PAGE. 

I'm  mad  in  love ;  they  say,  I'm  not  full-grown. 

mephistopheles  (aside). 

This  sort  of  thing  how  am  I  to  endure  ? 

[To  the  Page. 
The  very  young  ones  you  must  let  alone. 
You'll  find  admirers  'inong  the  more  mature. 

[  Others  press  round  him. 


FAUST  299 

Still  others  coming !     Here's  a  fine  to-do ! 
I  must  resort  to  truth,  to  help  me  through. 
The  worst  of  helps !     But  no  escape  I  see. 

0  Mothers,  Mothers  !  set  but  Faustus  free ! 

[Looks  round. 
Already  they  are  lighting  up  the  hall. 
The  whole  Court  is  upon  the  move ;  and  all 
The  motley  stream  in  graceful  order  pours 
Through  far  arcades  and  lengthened  corridors. 
Now  to  the  old  baronial  hall  they  throng, 
Scarce  holds  them  all,  wide  though  it  be  and  long. 
Its  spacious  walls  are  hung  with  tapestries  rich. 
And  armour  old  on  bracket  and  in  niche. 
No  need  of  magic  here,  or  spell,  I  wis  : 
Ghosts  of  themselves  must  haunt  a  place  like  this. 

Scene  VII.  —  Baronial  Hall  Dimly  Illuminated. 
The  Emperor  and  Court  assembled. 

HERALD. 

My  old  vocation,  to  announce  the  play, 

Is  by  strange  ghostly  influence  much  perplexed ; 

1  can't  pretend  to  make  things  out,  or  say, 

In  such  a  ravelled  business,  what  comes  next. 
There  stand  the  couches  ready,  chairs  and  all, 
The  Emperor  seated  right  before  the  wall ; 
Upon  the  tapestry  he  can  behold 
At  ease  the  fights  of  the  great  times  of  old. 
Eound  him  are  lords  and  gentlefolks  reclined, 
While  common  benches  throng  the  space  behind ; 
The  lover,  too,  though  ghosts  are  hovering  near, 
Has  found  a  pleasant  seat  beside  his  dear ; 
And  so,  as  all  are  comfortably  placed, 
The  phantoms  may  appear  with  all  convenient  haste ! 

[  Trumpets. 


;oo  FAUST 


ASTROLOGER 


Now  to  begin  the  business  of  the  play  ! 

Our  liege  lord  so  commands.     Ye  walls,  give  way  ! 

The  spell  and  magic  work  to  our  desire, 

The  tapestry  fades  as  'twere  devoured  by  fire ; 

The  walls  divide,  and,  as  they  backwards  bend, 

A  stage  and  ample  theatre  disclose, 

Where  we  shall  be  regaled  with  mystic  shows ; 

And  I  to  the  proscenium  ascend. 


mephistopheles  {popping  up  from  the  prompter  s  box). 

My  skill,  I  trust,  all  here  will  duly  prize ; 
The  devil's  rhetoric  all  in  prompting  lies. 

[To  the  Astrologer. 
Thou,  who  the  courses  of  the  stars  canst  tell, 
My  whispers  wilt  interpret  passing  well. 


ASTROLOGER. 

By  magic  sleight,  behold  before  your  eyes 

In  massive  bulk  an  ancient  temple  rise ! 

Like  Atlas,  who  erewhile  the  heavens  upbore, 

Stand  pillars  ranged  in  rows,  a  goodly  store ; 

Lightly  they  hold  the  rocky  load  in  air, 

Two  shafts  like  these  a  structure  vast  could  bear. 


ARCHITECT. 

That's  your  antique  !     I  don't  admire  the  style. 
'Tis  a  great,  clumsy,  overweighted  pile. 
The  rude's  called  noble,  and  the  unwieldy  grand ; 
Give  me  small  shafts  that  far  in  air  expand. 
The  pointed  style  exalts  the  soul,  and  nought 
With  such  instructive  influence  is  fraught. 


FAUST  301 

ASTROLOGER. 

The  hours  the  stars  concede  accept  with  awe ; 
Be  reason  chained  by  the  magician's  saw ; 
But  keep  your  fancy's  wing  unfettered  still, 
To  roam  with  noble  daring  where  it  will. 
Look  with  your  eyes  at  what  you  long  to  see ; 
It  is  impossible,  and  cannot  be, 
And  therefore  merits  your  credulity. 

[Faust  rises  at  the  other  side  of  the  proscenium. 
In  priestly  robes,  and  wreathed,  a  wondrous  man, 
Who  now  completes  what  boldly  he  began ! 
A  tripod  rises  with  him  from  the  ground, 
I  scent  the  incense  shed  its  fumes  around ; 
See,  he  prepares  the  noble  work  to  bless, 
And  for  our  pageant  here  ensure  success ! 

faust  (in  a  majestic  style). 

In  your  name,  Mothers,  yours,  who  have  your  throne 
In  the  Infinite,  and  evermore  alone, 
Yet  in  communion  dwell !     The  forms  of  life 
Float  round  you,  lifeless,  yet  with  motion  rife. 
What  once  has  been,  in  seeming  as  of  yore, 
Flits  there,  for  'twill  exist  for  evermore ; 
And  ye  apportion  them,  ye  powers  of  might, 
'Twixt  the  day's  canopy  and  the  vault  of  night ; 
Some  upon  life's  glad  stream  are  borne  away, 
While  others  bend  to  the  bold  wizard's  sway, 
Who  doth  to  you  with  hand  profuse  unfold 
What  marvels  each  is  yearning  to  behold  ! 

ASTROLOGER. 

Scarce  on  the  dish  the  golden  key  he  lays, 
When  the  air  thickens  to  a  dusky  haze ; 
It  coils  and  curls,  now  spreads,  like  clouds,  about, 
Contracts,  expands,  divides,  shifts  in  and  out. 


302  FAUST 

Phantoms  of  power,  be  sure,  are  stirring  there  ! 
Hark  !  as  they  move,  what  music  in  the  air  ! 
With  a  weird  charm  the  tones  aerial  thrill, 
From  every  cloud  soft  melodies  distil, 
Each  pillared  shaft,  the  very  triglyph  rings, 
Yea,  I  could  swear  that  all  the  temple  sings. 
The  mists  subside,  and  from  the  filmy  air 
Comes  graceful  forth  a  youth  surpassing  fair. 

[Pakis  appears. 
Mute  let  me  be ;  what  need  his  name  to  show  ? 
Paris  the  Fair,  who,  who  could  fail  to  know  ? 

FIRST    LADY. 

What  youthful  fire !     What  bloom  upon  his  brow ! 

SECOND    LADY. 

As  fresh  and  juicy  as  a  peach,  I  vow ! 

THIRD    LADY. 

The  finely  chiselled,  sweetly  pouting  lip ! 

FOURTH    LADY. 

At  such  a  chalice  you  were  fain  to  sip  ? 

FIFTH    LADY. 

Handsome,  no  doubt,  but  not  a  noble  face ! 

SIXTH    LADY. 

He's  well  enough,  but  sadly  wanting  grace. 

FIRST    KNIGHT. 

The  shepherd  boy,  and  nothing  more,  'tis  plain ; 
Of  prince  and  courtly  breeding  not  a  grain. 


FAUST  303 

SECOND    KNIGHT. 

The  lad's  half  naked,  still  he  has  his  charms ; 
To  judge,  though,  we  must  see  him  clad  in  arms. 

FIKST   LADY. 

He  sits  him  down  with  such  a  gentle  grace. 

FIRST   KNIGHT. 

Were  not  his  breast  a  dainty  resting-place  ? 

ANOTHER   LADY. 

He  bends  his  arm  so  prettily  o'er  his  head. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

Oh,  shocking !     Fie  !     Where  was  the  fellow  bred  ? 

FIRST   LADY. 

You  men  always  find  out  defective  points. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

What !     In  the  Emperor's  presence,  stretch  his  joints  ? 

FIRST    LADY. 

It's  in  the  play.     He  thinks  himself  alone. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

Even  in  a  play  good  manners  should  be  shown. 

FIRST   LADY. 

Sweet  youth  !     Soft  slumber  steals  his  senses  o'er. 

CHAMBERLAIN. 

Tis  perfect !     To  the  life  !     Is  that  a  snore  ? 


304  FAUST 

young  lady  (in  raptures). 

What  perfume's  this,  that,  with  the  incense  mingling, 
Eight  to  the  centre  of  my  heart  goes  tingling  ? 

OLDER    LADY. 

A  breath  steals  deep  into  your  soul,  forsooth  ! 
It  comes  from  him. 

OLDEST    LADY. 

It  is  the  bloom  of  youth, 
A  rare  ambrosia,  bred  within  the  boy, 
Which  sheds  around  an  atmosphere  of  joy. 

[Helena  advances. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Soh  !  such  she  was !     Yet  I  am  fancy-free. 
She's  pretty,  hum !  but  not  the  style  for  me. 

ASTROLOGER. 

My  task  is  ended.     Frankly  I  avow 

What  well  I  feel,  my  task  is  ended  now. 

She  comes,  the  ideal  Fair,  and  though  a  tongue 

Of  fire  were  mine,  of  yore  her  charms  were  sung. 

Who  sees  her,  thenceforth  is  her  slave  confessed, 

Who  should  possess  her  were  too  highly  blessed. 

FAUST. 

Have  I  still  eyes  ?     I  see,  in  tranced  thought, 
Fair  Beauty's  fountain  welling  like  a  sea. 
My  voyage  dread  a  glorious  gain  hath  brought ; 
How  blank,  how  dreary  was  the  world  to  me ! 
And  since  my  priesthood  what  hath  it  become  ? 
Fleeting  no  more,  nor  void  and  wearisome ! 
May  palsy's  blight  my  every  sense  benumb, 


FAUST  305 

If  e'er  I  long  for  other  love  than  thine ! 
The  gracious  form  for  which  of  old  I  panted, 
Which  in  the  magic  glass  my  soul  enchanted, 
Was  but  a  phantom  of  thy  charms  divine  ! 
For  thee,  for  thee,  I  would  expend  my  whole 
Pent  passion's  force,  my  energies  of  soul, 
The  love,  devotion,  madness  of  my  heart ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Be  calm,  be  calm,  and  don't  forget  your  part ! 

ELDERLY  LADY. 

Tall,  well-proportioned,  but  her  head's  too  small. 

YOUNG    LADY. 

Look  at  her  foot !  that's  clumsiest  of  all ! 

DIPLOMATIST. 

Princesses  just  like  this  I've  seen  and  know, 
Methinks  she's  beautiful  from  top  to  toe  ! 

COURTIER. 

Now  to  the  sleeper  softly  doth  she  glide. 

FIRST   LADY. 

He  young  and  pure  —  she's  hideous  by  his  side  ! 

POET. 

Her  beauty  seems  to  bathe  his  form  in  light. 

SECOND    LADY. 

Endymion  and  Luna,  pictured  quite. 


306  FAUST 

POET. 

Yes !     As  from  heaven  she  comes,  the  goddess  pale, 
O'er  him  she  bends,  his  breathing  to  inhale ; 
0  happy  boy !     A  kiss  !     Oh,  bliss  untold  ! 

DUENNA. 

Before  us  all !     Tis  really  too  bold  ! 

FAUST. 

Oh  !  dreadful  boon  for  one  so  young ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Be  stiU  ! 
Let  the  fair  phantom  do  whate'er  it  will ! 

COURTIER. 

She  glides  away  on  tiptoe ;  does  he  wake  ? 

FIRST    LADY. 

She  looks  behind ;  I  thought  she  would,  the  snake ! 

COURTIER. 

He  starts !     He's  lost  in  wonder  and  amaze ! 

FIRST   LADY. 

No  wonder  'tis  to  her,  that  fills  her  gaze ! 

COURTIER. 

She  turns  to  greet  him  with  enchanting  grace. 

FIRST    LADY. 

She  teaches  him  his  lesson,  what  and  how. 

All  men  are  stupid  dolts  in  such  a  case. 

He  thinks,  no  doubt,  she  never  loved  till  now. 


FAUST  307 

KNIGHT. 

She's  perfect !     So  majestic,  form  and  face. 

FIRST   LADY. 

The  wanton  minx  !     Her  conduct's  a  disgrace ! 

PAGE. 

I  would  give  worlds  to  occupy  his  place! 

COURTIER. 

In  such  a  coil  who'd  not  be  netted  fast  ? 

FIRST    LADY. 

The  jewel  through  so  many  hands  has  passed, 
'Tis  grown  a  trifle  shabby  in  the  setting. 

ANOTHER    LADY. 

What  wonder,  after  these  ten  years  of  fretting  ? 

KNIGHT. 

Each  to  his  taste !     But,  have  it  if  I  might, 
This  lovely  ruin  would  content  me  quite. 

LITERATUS. 

I  see  her  plainly,  yet  I  don't  feel  clear 
That  we  have  got  the  real  Helen  here. 
Our  eyes  are  apt  to  carry  us  astray ; 
To  trust  to  what  is  written  is  my  way. 
There,  then,  I  read,  that  she  enchanted  all 
Troy's  graybeards  as  she  stood  upon  the  wall ; 
And  that  is  just,  methinks,  what  here  I  see : 
I  am  not  young,  and  she  enchanteth  me. 


308  FAUST 


ASTKOLOGER. 


A  boy  no  more,  he  clasps  her  with  a  bound ! 
In  vain  she  strives  his  ecstasy  to  school. 
With  stalwart  arm  he  lifts  her  from  the  ground, 
And  now  he  bears  her  off. 


FAUST. 

Audacious  fool ! 
Thou  darest  ?     What  ?     Not  hear  me  ?     Hold,  I  say ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

It  is  yourself  who  make  this  phantom  play  ! 

ASTROLOGER. 

A  word,  one  only !     After  this,  we  may 
This  pageant  call  —  "  The  Rape  of  Helena." 

FAUST. 

The  Rape  !     Do  I  then  count  for  nothing  here  ? 

This  key,  do  I  not  hold  it  in  my  hand  ? 

It  was  my  guide  through  the  wide  ocean  drear 

Of  the  dread  Solitudes  to  solid  land. 

Here  is  firm  footing  !  here  Realities  ! 

Here  spirit  may  with  spirits  cope  at  ease, 

And  give  the  mighty  phantom-world  command. 

And  she  who  dwelt  afar  in  grace  divine, 

How  can  she  e'er  be  nearer  to  my  hand  ? 

I'll  rescue  her,  then  is  she  doubly  mine. 

The  venture  shall  be  made.     Ye  Mothers  !  ye 

Must  compass  it !     I  charge  ye,  aid  me !     He, 

Who  her  unmatched  perfection  once  has  known, 

Must  die,  or  win  and  wear  it  for  his  own. 


FAUST  309 


ASTROLOGER. 


Hold,  Faustus,  hold !     He  clasps  her  in  his  arm. 
A  cloudy  trouble  gathers  o'er  her  form. 
The  key,  he  points  it  to  the  youth,  and  lo ! 
He  touches  hirn.     We're  all  undone.     Woe,  woe ! 

[Explosion.     Faust  is  dashed  to  the  ground.      The 
phantoms  melt  into  air. 

mephistopheles   (takes  faust  upon  his  shoulders). 

You've  caught  it  now  !     With  fools  his  lot  to  cast, 
To  trouble  brings  the  devil's  self  at  last ! 

[Darkness.      Tumult. 


ACT  II 

SCENE  I.  —  A  highly  arched,  narrow  Gothic  Chamber, 
formerly  Faust's  ;  unaltered. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (stepping  out  from  behind  a  curtain. 
As  he  lifts  it  up  and  looks  bark,  faust  is  seen 
stretched  out  upon  an  old-fashioned  bed). 

Lie  there,  poor  wretch !      Yours  is  a  crisis 

Will  last  you  for  awhile,  be  sure  ! 

The  man  whom  Helen  paralyses 

Takes  many  a  long  day  to  cure.  [Looks  round. 

Where'er  I  look,  amid  the  glimmer, 

There's  nothing  changed  the  very  least. 

The  stained-glass  panes,  methinks,  are  rather  dimmer, 

The  cobwebs  round  the  room  somewhat  increased. 

The  ink's  dried  up  ;  the  paper  yellow.     There 

Stands  everything  just  where  it  did  —  yes,  all ! 

There  lies  the  very  pen,  too,  I  declare, 

Faust  to  the  devil  signed  himself  withal. 

And  of  his  blood  a  tiny  droplet  still 


310  FAUST 

Lingers  within  the  hollow  of  the  quill. 

The  very  greatest  of  collectors  might 

In  so  unique  a  specimen  delight. 

Ha  !     On  the  old  hook,  too,  the  old  furred  cloak ! 

Of  the  old  time  it  'minds  me,  when,  in  joke, 

Of  solemn  saws  I  gave  the  boy  his  fill, 

At  which  the  youth,  perhaps,  is  mumbling  still. 

Warm,  cosy  robe,  I  feel  as  then, 

And  long  to  get  inside  of  you, 

And  play  the  teacher  once  again, 

As  everybody  thinks  he's  fit  to  do. 

How  to  accomplish  it  your  scholars  know ; 

The  devil  lost  the  trick  long,  long  ago. 

[Takes  down  the  furred  pelisse  ;  crickets,  moths,  and 
chafers  fly  out  from  it. 

CHORUS    OF    INSECTS. 

We  welcome  thy  coming, 
Old  patron  and  friend  ; 
With  buzz  and  with  humming 
On  thee  we  attend. 
Singly,  in  silence, 
Thou  plantedst  us  here, 
Skipping  by  thousands, 
Behold,  we  appear ! 
The  rogue  in  the  bosom 
Hides  close  in-  his  lair  ; 
Our  fur-bed  we  gladly 
Forsake  for  the  air. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  quite  a  treat  to  hear  these  young  fry  cheep ! 
Let  one  but  sow,  in  time  he's  sure  to  reap. 
Again  I  shake  the  old  tag-rag,  and  out 
The  creatures  fly  and  flutter  all  about. 


FAUST  311 

Up  and  away  !     In  nooks  on  every  side, 
My  little  darlings,  quickly  hide. 
In  yon  old  boxes,  chests,  and  bins, 
Here  in  these  yellow  parchment  skins, 
In  dusty  pots,  retorts,  and  bowls, 
In  yonder  skulls'  grim  eyelet-holes. 
Enjoy  yourselves  you  surely  must, 
Among  such  maggots,  dirt,  and  dust. 

[Slips  into  the  pelisse. 
Come !  and  once  more  my  back  array  ! 
I'm  Principal  again  to-day  : 
But  what  avails  to  bear  the  name ! 
Where  are  the  people,  to  admit  my  claim  ? 
[Pulls  the  bell,  which  emits  a  shrill,  penetrating 

sound,  at  which  the  halls  shake  and  the  doors 

burst  open. 

famulus  {stumbling  along  the  dark  passage). 

What  a  clamour  !  what  a  quaking ! 
Walls  and  staircase  rocking,  shaking ! 
Ugh  !  the  lightning,  how  it  flashes 
Through  the  coloured  window-sashes ! 
From  the  ceiling,  fast  and  faster, 
Eattle  stucco,  lath,  and  plaster ; 
And,  by  wizard  cantrip  parted, 
From  the  doors  the  bolts  have  started ! 
Yonder  —  horrors  ne'er  will  cease !  — 
A  giant  in  Faust's  old  pelisse ! 
He  so  stares  and  nods  at  me, 
I  shall  drop  down  presently. 
Shall  I  fly,  or  shall  I  stay  ? 
I'm  undone  !     Oh  !  well-a-day ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 
Come  hither,  friend !     Your  name  is  Nicodemus. 


312  FAUST 

FAMULUS. 

Most  worthy  sir,  that  is  my  name.     Oremus ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Some  other  time ! 

FAMULUS. 

You  know  me,  it  appears ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Eight  well !     A  student  still,  though  up  in  years ! 

Well,  well,  the  learnedest,  my  moss-grown  friend, 

Can't  choose  but  go  on  studying  to  the  end. 

A  card-house  so  he  builds  him,  small  and  neat ; 

But  not  even  greatest  minds  their  house  complete. 

Your  master,  though,  he  has  indeed  a  name ; 

Who  has  not  heard  of  Dr.  Wagner's  fame  ? 

Wagner,  the  learned  world's  acknowledged  head, 

Which,  but  for  him,  indeed,  might  go  to  bed  ! 

Daily  from  him  new  flashes  burst 

Of  wisdom,  science,  and  of  knowledge, 

And  pupils,  in  and  out  of  college, 

For  pure  omniscience  athirst, 

In  crowds  surround  this  wondrous  teacher. 

He  is  your  only  brilliant  preacher ; 

He  like  Saint  Peter  wields  the  keys, 

And  opens  Hell's  or  Heaven's  gates  at  his  ease. 

All  other  doctors'  fame  has  faded 

Before  the  brilliancy  of  his ; 

Even  Faustus'  name  is  overshaded  ; 

The  great  inventor  he,  he  only,  is. 

FAMULUS. 

Fair  sir,  forgive  me,  if  I  may 
Your  dictum  venture  to  gainsay ; 


FAUST  313 

Trust  me,  'tis  quite  the  other  way. 

The  doctor  would  such  praises  spurn, 

For  he  is  modest  to  a  flaw ; 

To  Faustus  he  looks  up  with  awe, 

And  may  indeed  be  said  to  burn 

For  that  distinguished  man's  return, 

Whose  absence,  ever  since  he  went, 

Has  caused  him  sore  bewilderment. 

This  room,  and  everything  that's  in  it, 

Awaits  its  former  master,  just 

As  when  he  left  it,  even  the  dust. 

I  scarcely  dare  set  foot  within  it. 

What  must  the  astral  hour  be  —  what  ? 

The  walls,  methinks,  have  somehow  parted, 

The  doorposts  sprung,  the  ringbolts  started, 

Else  in  here  you  had  never  got. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well,  then,  your  master,  where  is  he  ? 
Bring  me  to  him,  or  him  to  me. 


FAMULUS. 

His  order's  strict,  to  let  none  enter ; 
I  scarcely  know  if  I  may  venture. 
On  his  stupendous  task  intent, 
For  months  on  months  he  has  been  pent 
Within  his  room,  in  strict  seclusion, 
And  will  not  brook  the  least  intrusion. 
The  meekest  of  all  learned  men, 
He  looks  like  demon  in  his  den, 
Begrimed  from  ears  to  nose,  his  eyes 
With  blowing  up  the  furnace  red ; 
So  day  and  night  his  tongs  he  plies, 
And  never  thinks  to  go  to  bed. 


314  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Refuse  to  me  admittance  ?     Why, 
The  very  man  his  ends  to  forward,  I. 

[Exit  Famulus.     Mephistopheles  sits  down  with 
a  very  solemn  air. 
Scarce  seated  at  my  post,  when  —  hark  !  oh,  rare  ! 
A  visitor  comes  clattering  up  the  stair ; 
But  this  time  he  is  of  the  latest  school ; 
Not  to  be  bound  by  dogma  or  by  rule. 

baccalaureus  {swaggering  along  the  passage). 

Gate  and  doors  wide  open  cast ! 
Good !     So  we  may  hope  at  last 
That  the  living  man  no  more 
Grubs  in  dust,  as  heretofore, 
Like  a  dead  man  —  moping,  sighing, 
And,  though  living,  truly  dying. 

This  old  fabric,  roof  and  wall, 
Bends  and  totters  to  its  fall ; 
Scarce  if  soon  we  do  not  make  us, 
Crash  and  wreck  will  overtake  us; 
I,  though  not  a  man  to  flinch, 
Go  no  farther,  not  an  inch. 

Was  it  not  here  ?     It  was,  I  know, 
That  I,  so  many  years  ago, 
A  freshman  came,  in  deep  concern, 
And  full  of  foolish  fears,  to  learn ; 
And  in  these  graybeards  did  confide, 
By  their  cold  morsels  edified. 
Out  of  their  musty  volumes  old 
All  sorts  of  lies  they  did  unfold  ; 
Believing  not  the  things  they  knew, 
Wasting  their  own  lives,  and  mine  too. 


FAUST  3J5 


How  ?     In  yon  cell  there's  one,  I'm  sure, 
Still  sitting  in  the  clear-obscure  ! 


'O 


How  odd !     Yes,  in  the  very  gown, 

Turned  up  with  fur  of  dingy  brown ! 

In  look  or  garb  no  sort  of  change  ! 

Just  as  I  left  him.     This  is  strange ! 

Then  with  an  awe  profound  I  scanned  him, 

Because  I  did  not  understand  him ; 

To-day  he'll  find  I'm  up  to  trap. 

Here  goes !     So  now  look  out,  old  chap  ! 

[To  Mephistopheles. 
Old  gentleman,  if  Lethe's  muddy  tide 
Have  not  o'erflowed  your  bald  skew-dropping  pate, 
Here  an  old  scholar  see  with  grateful  pride, 
From  academic  thrall  emancipate. 
You  are  the  same  as  then  in  every  feature, 
But  I  am  quite  another  creature. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'm  glad  you've  answered  to  my  bell ! 
Even  then  your  merits  I  could  see ; 
As  in  the  chrysalis  one  can  foretell 
The  brilliant  butterfly  to  be. 
In  collar  laced,  and  curls  well  dressed, 
You  then  felt  quite  a  childish  zest. 
You  never  wore  a  pigtail,  eh  ? 
A  crop,  I  see,  you  wear  to-day. 
You  have  a  bold  and  dashing  air, 
Pray,  don't  too  hard  upon  me  bear ! 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Old  gentleman,  this  place  may  be  the  same, 
But  things  have  not  been  at  a  stop, 
So  your  ambiguous  phrases  drop : 
We're  fly  to  all  that  sort  of  game. 


316  FAUST 

You  once  could  trot  the  simple  youth ; 

It  needed  no  great  skill,  to  do 

What  now  would  puzzle  more  than  you. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  to  the  young  one  speaks  unvarnished  truth, 
Their  yellow  beaks  the  precious  food  eschew ; 
But  when,  in  course  of  time  and  tide, 
They've  learned  it  dearly  through  their  hide, 
They  fancy,  then,  they  found  it  out  at  once, 
And  so  exclaim,  "  Our  master  was  a  dunce  ! " 


BACCALAUREUS. 

A  knave,  perhaps !     For  which  of  them  has  grace 
To  speak  the  plain  truth  plumply  to  our  face  ? 
They  treat  us  like  good  children  —  here  caress, 
There  threaten,  letting  out  now  more,  now  less. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

There  is  a  time  to  learn ;  but,  by  your  speech, 
You  are,  I  see,  yourself  prepared  to  teach. 
Through  many  moons,  and  suns  some  few, 
Profound  experience,  doubtless,  has  been  gained  by  you. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Experience !     Psha  !     Mere  dust  and  scum  ! 
Mind,  mind's  the  thing  !     Mind  free  and  growing  ! 
Of  what  man's  always  known  the  sum 
Is  not,  confess  it,  worth  the  knowing. 

mephistopheles  (after  a  pause). 

I've  long  surmised  I  was  a  fool.     Alas ! 
It  strikes  me  now  I  am  an  utter  ass. 


FAUST  317 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Delightful !     There's  some  reason  in  you  yet ! 
The  first  old  man  of  sense  I  ever  met ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  sought  for  hidden  golden  store,  and  lit 
On  merest  cinder-rubbish  everywhere. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

Your  bald  old  pate  is  not,  you'd  best  admit, 
Worth  more  than  yonder  hollow  skulls  up  there. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (good-humour  edlg) . 
How  rude  you  are,  you're  not  aware,  friend,  quite. 

BACCALAUREUS. 

In  German  one  must  lie,  to  be  polite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {who  has  been  throughout  the  dialogue 
rolling  his  chair  nearer  the  proscenium  —  to  the  pit). 

I'm  choked  up  here !     Nor  air  nor  light  I've  got. 
You'll  find  me  quarters  'mongst  you,  will  you  not  ? 

BACCALAUREUS. 

It's  quite  preposterous,  that  men  will  try 

To  cut  a  figure  when  their  day's  gone  by. 

Man's  life  lives  in  his  blood  ;  and  where,  forsooth, 

Does  blood  so  course  and  pulsate  as  in  youth  ? 

That's  the  true  thing,  with  glow  and  vigour  rife, 

Which  out  of  its  own  life  creates  new  life. 

There  all  is  stir,  there  something's  done  and  sped ; 

The  weak  fall  out,  the  stalwart  go  ahead. 

Whilst  we  have  made  one-half  the  world  our  own, 

What  have  you  done  ?   Why,  napped  and  mused  alone, 


318  FAUST 

Dreamed,  pondered,  planned,  still  planned,  and  that  is  all ! 

Old  age  a  shivering  ague  is  —  no  more  !  — 

Of  whims  and  frosty  fancies  bred ; 

When  once  his  thirtieth  year  is  o'er, 

A  man  is  just  as  good  as  dead. 

'Twere  best  yourself  betimes  to  slay. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  Devil  here  has  nothing  more  to  say. 


BACCALAUKEUS. 

Save  through  my  will,  no  Devil  can  exist. 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (aside). 

The  Devil,  though,  some  day  your  neck  shall  twist. 

BACCALAUKEUS. 

This  is  youth's  noblest  calling  and  most  fit ! 

The  world  was  not,  till  I  created  it. 

Out  of  the  ocean  I  evoked  the  sun, 

With  me  the  moon  began  its  course  to  run, 

To  light  my  path  the  day  its  splendour  wore, 

For  me  the  earth  her  flowers  and  verdure  bore. 

At  my  command,  on  yonder  primal  night, 

Did  all  the  stars  pour  forth  their  glorious  light. 

Who  but  myself  for  you  deliverance  wrought 

From  the  harsh  fetters  of  pedantic  thought  ? 

I  with  free  soul,  ecstatical  and  bright, 

Walk  in  the  radiance  of  my  inward  light, 

With  fearless  step  and  joy-illumined  mind. 

Before  me  brightness,  darkness  far  behind.  [Exit. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well,  go  in  pride,  original,  thy  ways ! 
Insight  would  make  thee  melancholy : 


FAUST  3X9 

What  thought  of  wisdom  or  of  folly 
Has  not  been  often  thought  in  bygone  days  ? 
Yet  in  good  time  all  will  come  safely  round  — 
A  few  more  years,  this  folly  will  have  passed ; 
Even  where  the  must  ferments  beyond  all  bound, 
It  yields  a  wine  of  some  kind  at  the  last. 

[To  the  younger  occupants  of  the  pit,  who  do  not 
applaud. 
You  to  my  words  are  deaf  and  cold. 
Well,  well !  Good  boys  like  you  in  time  will  mend  'em. 
Keflect !  the  Devil,  he  is  old ; 
Then  grow  you  old,  to  comprehend  him  ! 


Scene  II.  —  Laboratory,  after  the  fashion  of  the  middle 
ages ;  a  quantity  of  useless  apparatus,  for  fantastic 
purposes. 

WAGNER  {at  the  furnace). 

The  bell  rings ;  at  its  clangour  drear 
The  mouldy  walls  with  horror  thrill ; 
This  dread  suspense  of  hope  and  fear 
Must  soon  be  solved,  for  good  or  ill. 
Joy,  joy  !     The  gloom  begins  to  clear ! 
Now  is  the  phial's  core  below 
As  with  a  living  coal  aglow ; 
Yea,  like  a  fine  carbuncle,  mark, 
It  flashes  lightnings  through  the  dark  ! 
And  now  a  light,  pellucid,  white ! 
Oh,  let  me,  let  me  fail  no  more ! 
Great  heavens !  a  rustling  at  the  door  ? 


MEPHISTOPHELES  [entering). 
Pray,  don't  alarm  yourself  !  all's  right. 


320  FAUST 

WAGNER  {anxiously). 

Welcome  !     The  stars  my  purpose  aid ! 

[In  a  low  voice. 
But  not  a  word.     Breathe  lightly,  for  a  grand 
Conception's  consummation  is  at  hand. 

mephistopheles  (in  a  whisper). 
What  is  afoot  ? 

WAGNER  (also  in  a  whisper). 
A  man  is  being  made. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  man  !     What  pair  of  amorous  tools 
In  the  alembic  there  are  sweating  ? 

WAGNER. 

Nay,  heaven  forfend  !     Tis  only  fit  for  fools, 

That  ancient  method  of  begetting. 

The  tender  point,  which  was  life's  source, 

That  subtle,  springing,  inward  force, 

Which,  to  impress  its  image  bent, 

Did  something  take,  and  something  lent, 

And  to  its  ends  essayed  to  win 

Both  what  was  foreign,  what  akin, 

Is  now  from  its  high  honours  thrust. 

If  brutes  this  way  still  sate  their  lust, 

Man,  with  his  mighty  gifts,  henceforth,  I  wis, 

Must  have  a  source  more  high,  more  pure  than  this. 

[Turns  to  the  furnace. 
It  flashes !     Look  !     My  hopes  were  not  unfounded. 
I  knew,  and  now  the  proof  behold, 
That  when,  from  substance  hundredfold, 
From  every  source  and  quarter  singled, 


FAUST  32 1 

And  all  —  for  there's  the  art,  I  hold  — 

In  suitable  proportion  mingled, 

Man's  substance  we  had  thus  compounded, 

And  in  alembic  then  confounded, 

In  proper  combination,  we 

The  work  in  silence  perfected  should  see. 

[Again  turns  to  the  furnace. 
Yes,  yes  !     Behold  !  the  mass  grows  clearer. 
The  demonstration  nearer,  nearer ! 
What  men  call  Nature's  mystery,  we  dare 
By  mind  to  probe  and  analyse, 
And  what  she  organised  whilere, 
We  now  contrive  to  crystallise. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

He  that  lives  long  learns  much,  as  time  goes  by ; 
The  world  can  nothing  new  before  him  set. 
Already  in  my  early  travels  I 
Of  mortals  crystallised  not  few  have  met. 

WAGNEK  (who  has  meanwhile  been  watching  the  phial 

intently). 

It  flashes,  mounts,  the  atoms  blend  ! 

One  moment,  and  we  reach  the  end ! 

A  grand  design  mere  madness  seems  at  first ; 

But  in  the  end  with  us  will  be  the  laughter, 

And  thus  a  brain,  which  living  thought  has  nursed, 

Shall  breed  a  living  thinker  too,  hereafter. 

[Contemplates  the  phial  with  rapture. 
The  glass  rings  piercingly  and  sweet. 
It  clouds,  it  clears !     All,  all,  as  it  should  be  ! 
Settling  into  proportion  meet, 
A  comely  mannikin  I  see. 
More  can  the  world  or  can  I  wish  for  ?     No  ! 
The  mystery  lies  unveiled  within  our  reach  ; 


322  FAUST 

Just  mark  that  sound,  and  you  will  find  it  grow 
To  perfect  voice,  to  most  articulate  speech. 


homunculus  (in  the  phial,  to  wagner). 

How  goes  it,  daddie  mine  !     It  was  no  jest. 
Come,  press  me  very  gently  to  your  breast. 
But  not  too  hard,  else  will  the  crystal  shatter. 
Remember,  'tis  the  law  of  matter, 
That  all  the  universe  doth  scarce  suffice 
For  Nature's  procreations  grand, 
While  things  produced  by  Art's  device 
A  bounded  space  and  well  enclosed  demand. 

[To  Mephistopheles. 
Ha,  rogue  !     That's  you,  sir  kinsman,  is  it  ? 
Thanks,   thanks !     Most   aptly  have  you  timed  your 

visit. 
Rare  chance  for  us  that  brought  you  here !     And  I, 
Whilst  I  exist,  my  task  must  briskly  ply. 
I  long  to  tackle  to  my  work,  and  you 
Are  just  the  man  to  show  me  what  to  do. 

WAGNER. 

One  word,  just  one,  to  screen  my  credit,  pray, 

And  save  my  reputation  many  a  slight ! 

With  problems  I  am  pelted  every  day, 

By  young  and  old,  which  baffle  me  outright. 

For  instance,  nobody  can  comprehend 

How  body  and  soul  so  exquisitely  blend, 

Sticking  as  close  as  though  they  ne'er  would  part, 

Yet  every  day  embroiled  in  conflict  tart. 

Then  — 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Stop !     Ask  rather,  how  it  comes  about 
That  man  and  wife  so  constantly  fall  out  ? 


FAUST  323 

Such  problems,  friend,  you  never  will  see  through. 
The  little  one  wants  work ;  here's  work  to  do. 


HOMUNCULUS. 
What's  to  be  done  ? 

mephistopheles  (pointing  to  a  side-door). 
Yonder  thy  gifts  employ  ! 

WAGNER  (still  gazing  into  the  phial). 

In  sooth,  thou  art  a  darling  of  a  boy ! 

[Tlie  side-door  opens.     Faust  is  seen  lying  upon  the 
couch. 

homunculus  (amazed). 
Strange ! 

[The  phial  hounds  out  of  Wagner's  hands,  hovers 
over  Faust,  and  sheds  a  light  upon  him. 
What  a  gorgeous  garniture  of  dream  ! 
Deep  in  the  umbrage  of  a  wood,  a  stream 
Lucent  as  crystal  —  women,  oh,  how  fair ! 
Their  limbs  unrobing  in  the  sunlit  air ; 
And  one,  who  o'er  them  all  asserts  her  place, 
Supreme  in  beauty,  and  supreme  in  grace, 
Sprung  of  heroic,  yea,  Olympian  race  ! 
She  dips  her  foot  in  the  transparent  tide, 
Cooling  the  glow  of  her  majestic  frame 
In  waves  that  leap  and  sparkle  up  her  side, 
In  loving  dalliance  with  the  fragrant  flame. 
But  hark  !  a  rushing  as  of  wings  in  flight ! 
What  plash  and  plunging  mar  the  mirror  bright! 
Her  maidens  fly  in  terror :  she,  their  queen, 
Gazes  around  her,  smiling  and  serene, 
And  with  a  thrill  of  pride  and  pleasure  sees 
The  foremost  swan  come  fondling  to  her  knees, 
Importunate,  yet  gentle.     Now,  at  ease, 


324  FAUST 

With  the  coy  beauty  he  disports  and  plays. 
But  lo !  at  once  a  mist  begins  to  rise, 
And  veils  in  an  impenetrable  haze 
The  loveliest  of  all  visions  from  my  eyes. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  very  exquisite  romance,  I  vow ; 

Small  though  thou  art,  a  mighty  phantast  thou. 

I  can  see  nothing. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

I  believe  it.     How 
Should  you,  a  creature  of  the  northern  clime, 
Bred  'mid  the  frippery  of  priests  and  knights, 
Have  your  eyes  open  to  such  glorious  sights  ? 
You  never  are  at  home  but  where 
Darkness  and  gloom  infect  the  air.     [Looking  round. 
Gray  stone  walls,  moss-grown,  ugly,  groins, 
High-pointed  arches,  volutes,  coigns  ! 
If  here  he  wake,  'twill  ruin  all, 
Dead  on  the  spot  he'd  surely  fall ! 
Swans,  naked  beauties,  woodland,  stream, 
These  made  up  his  prophetic  dream. 
How  should  he  ever  reconcile 
Himself  to  breathe  in  den  so  vile  ? 
Though  little  caring  where  I  be, 
I  find  it  rather  much  for  me. 
So  hence  with  him  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  wish  shall  be  obeyed. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Command  the  warrior  to  the  fight, 
To  dance  and  roundel  lead  the  maid, 


FAUST  325 

And  then  their  joy  is  at  its  height. 
This  is  —  ha,  ha !  the  thought  is  bright  — 
The  Classical  Walpurgis  Night. 
The  very  thing  to  nurse  his  bent ! 
He'll  there  be  in  his  element. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Of  such  a  think  I  never  heard. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Oh !  good ! 
And  was  it  probable  you  should  ? 
You  only  know  romantic  spectres ;  but 
The  genuine  spectre's  of  a  classic  cut. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  what  direction  shall  we  ride  ? 
Antique  companions,  mind,  I  can't  abide. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Your  pleasure-grounds  north-westward,  Satan,  he, 
But  south  and  eastward  we  to-night  must  hie. 
O'er  a  broad  flat  doth  fair  Peneios  wind, 
By  many  an  oozy  bay,  green  woodlands  through : 
The  mountain  clitfs  close  in  the  plain  behind, 
And  far  up  lies  Pharsalus  old  and  new. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Out  and  away !     No  longer  let  me  hear 
Of  slaves  and  tyrants  waging  conflict  drear! 
They  bore  me ;  for  one  war  is  scarcely  done, 
When  out  of  hand  another  is  begun ; 
And  not  a  man  of  them  can  see  that  they 
Only  the  game  of  Asmodeus  play. 


326  FAUST 

For  Freedom's  rights  they  battle,  that's  the  cry ; 
Slaves  murder  slaves,  were  nearer  truth,  say  I. 


HOMUNCULUS. 

Oh,  to  their  strife  and  wrangling  leave  mankind. 

Each  must  protect  himself  as  best  he  can, 

From  boyhood  up ;  so  grows  at  last  a  man. 

The  cure  for  him  (pointing  to  Faust)  is  what  we  have 

to  find. 
If  you've  a  panacea,  prove  it  now ; 
If  not,  give  way,  and  leave  the  task  to  me. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  bolts  of  heathendom,  I  must  avow, 

Defy  my  brocken  spells  to  find  the  key. 

These  Greeks  were  never  good  for  much.     Yet  stay ! 

They  charm  men's  senses  with  external  show. 

Their  sins  look  bright,  and  beautiful,  and  gay ; 

While  ours  seem  always  dreary,  dull,  and  slow. 

And  now  what  else  ? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

You  used  not  to  be  shy. 
I  think  I've  something  I  can  tempt  you  by. 
What  say  you  to  Thessalian  witches,  eh  ? 


mephistopheles  (kindling  up). 

Thessalian  witches  ?     Good  !     A  gentry  these 
I've  been  inquiring  for  this  many  a  day. 
I  have  a  notion,  though,  that  they 
My  taste  will  not  exactly  please,  — 
Night  after  night,  at  least,  with  them  to  stay. 
But  we  shall  see.     Away  ! 


FAUST  327 

HOMUNCULUS. 

The  cloak  once  more! 
And  in  it  wrap  yon  sleeping  cavalier ! 
'Twill  bear  you  both,  as  it  has  done  before. 
I  go  ahead,  you  by  my  light  to  steer. 


WAGNER  (alarmed). 
And  I? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Why,  you  —  stay  here  at  home,  and  those 
Researches  most  momentous  close ! 
Turn  your  old  parchments  o'er  and  o'er,  —  collect 
The  elements  of  life,  as  they  direct, 
Then  piece  them  warily  ;  and,  look  ye  now, 
Consider  well  the  What,  but  more  the  How 
I  o'er  a  slice  of  earth  the  while  will  hie, 
And  should  I  find  the  dot  upon  the  I, 
Why,  this  your  mighty  enterprise  will  cap. 
The  prize  is  more  than  worth  the  effort  —  wealth, 
Honour,  renown,  long  life,  unfailing  health, 
Knowledge  withal,  and  virtue  too,  —  mayhap. 
Farewell ! 

WAGNER. 

Farewell !     My  heart  is  sad  and  sore, 
For  much  I  fear  I  ne'er  shall  see  thee  more. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Now  for  Peneios  !     My  small  friend, 

I'm  not  ashamed  to  claim  his  aid.       [Ad  spectatores. 

We  in  the  long  run  all  depend 

Upon  the  creatures  we  have  made. 


328  FAUST 

CLASSICAL   WALPURGIS    NIGHT. 
Scene  III.  —  Pharsalian  Fields  —  Darkness. 

ERICHTHO. 

To  this  night's  ghastly  revel,  as  full  oft  before, 

I  hither  come,  Erichtho  I,  the  sad  of  mien, 

Yet  not  so  loathly,  as  with  calumny's  gross  tongue 

The  libellous  poets  paint  me.    They,  in  praise  or  blame 

No  stint  nor  measure  know.     The  vale  through  all  its 

length 
Is  white  as  with  a  sea  of  tents,  all  ashy  gray, 
An  after-reflex  of  that  awful,  ghastly  night. 
How  oft  already  has  it  been  repeated  !     'Twill 
Be  through  all  time  repeated  !     Empire  no  one  yields 
To  another ;  no,  not  even  to  him  by  whom  'twas  won 
By  force,  by  force  is  swayed.     For  who,  though  power- 
less 
To  rule  his  inner  self,  is  not  intent  to  rule 
His  neighbour's  will,  at  the  proud  dictates  of  his  own  ? 
But  here  a  signal  proof  to  bitter  end  was  fought, 
How  power  arrays  itself  against  a  mightier  power ; 
Rends  freedom's   chaplet  fair,   with   all   its  thousand 

flowers, 
And   stubborn   laurels    round    the   victor's   brows   en- 
twines. 
Here  Magnus  of  the  days  of  his  first  greatness  dreamed. 
There  Caesar  watched  the  wavering  balance  shake. 
Here  shall  they  grapple !     Well  the  world  the  victor 

knows. 
With  tongues  of  ruddy  flame  the  watch-fires  glow,  the 

ground 
A  semblance  of  the  blood,  that  dyed  it  erst,  exhales, 
And,  by  the  night's  most  strange  and  weird-like  sheen 
allured, 


FAUST  329 

The  beings  of  Hellenic  legend  'gin  to  throng. 

The  fabled  forms  of  ancient  days  unstably  flit 

Around  the  fires,  or  sit  in  circles  at  their  ease. 

The  moon,  though  only  half  her  orb,  resplendent,  clear, 

Climbs  up  the  sky,  and  fills  the  vale  with  mellow  light. 

The  phantom  tents  fade  out,  and  bluely  burn  the  fires. 

But  lo  !  what  meteor  strange  comes  sailing  through  the 

air ! 
Itself  illumed,  a  ball  corporeal  it  illumes. 
I  scent  life  near  at  hand.     Destructive  as  I  am 
To  all  that  lives,  'twill  not  beseem  me  to  remain ; 
'Twould  bring  me  ill  repute,  advantage  none  at  all. 
Now  it  descends  to  earth !     Tis  best  that  I  retire. 

[  Withdraws. 

The  Aerial   Travellers  above. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Hover,  hover,  iu  the  air, 

O'er  these  flames  and  phantoms  dreary ; 
Down  within  the  valley  there, 

Things  look  spectral,  wild,  and  eerie. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

As  a-north,  through  casements  old 
Ghastly  shapes  and  horrors  rare, 

Hideous  ghosts  I  now  behold ; 
Here  I'll  be  at  home,  as  there ! 

HOMUNCULUS. 

See  yon  figure,  long  and  gaunt, 
Swift  away  before  us  gliding ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

She  looks  troubled,  to  her  haunt 
Through  the  air  to  see  us  sliding. 


330  FAUST 


HOMUNCULUS. 


Let  her  go  !     Set  down  thy  freight, 
That  paladin  of  dreams  unstable, 

And  life  will  come  back  to  him  straight ; 
He  seeks  it  in  the  realm  of  fable. 

fatjst  (as  he  touches  the  ground). 
Where  is  she  ? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Cannot  say,  good  sir; 
But  here  you  may  get  news  of  her. 
From  fire  to  fire  till  dawn  do  you 
Unceasingly  your  quest  pursue. 
Should  anything  his  courage  daunt, 
Who  dared  invade  The  Mothers'  haunt  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I,  too,  have  here  a  part  to  play ; 
And  there  can  be  no  better  way 
Than  for  us  each  to  seek  his  own 
Adventures  'mongst  these  fires  alone. 
And  thou,  small  friend,  to  reunite  us, 
Shalt  ring,  and  with  thy  radiance  light  us. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Thus  shall  I  blaze,  thus  ring  for  you ! 

[The  glass  booms  and  flashes  vehemently. 
Now,  haste  away  to  marvels  new  ! 

FAUST  (alone). 

Where  is  she  ?     Wherefore  now  inquire  ? 

If  this  were  not  the  land  that  bore  her, 

These  not  the  waves  that  paddled  o'er  her, 

This  is,  at  least,  the  air  that  did  her  speech  inspire. 


FAUST  33! 

Here  !  here  in  Greece  !     Here,  by  a  marvel  swept, 

I  knew  at  once  the  soil  on  which  I  stood  : 

A  spirit  fired  my  life-blood  as  I  slept ; 

Antseus-like  I  feel  a  giant's  mood, 

And  though  my  path  be  thronged  with  visions  dire, 

I  will  explore  this  labyrinth  of  fire.  [Goes  off. 


Scene  IV.  —  On  the   Upper  Peneios. 

mephistopheles  (peering  about). 

As  in  and  out  among  these  flames  I  flirt, 

I'm  quite  put  out,  for  almost  all  I  view 

Is  naked,  only  here  and  there  a  shirt ; 

The  Sphinxes  lost  to  shame,  the  Griffins  too, 

And  all  those  long-tressed  things  of  winged  kind, 

Bare  to  the  eye  iu  front,  and  bare  behind. 

We  relish  rarely  what  is  gross  and  free, 

But,  really,  the  antique's  too  lively  even  for  me. 

On  it  we  must  our  modern  views  impress, 

And  clothe  it  in  the  latest  style  of  dress. 

A  hideous  crew  !     Yet  must  I  not  neglect 

To  greet  them,  as  a  stranger,  with  respect. 

Hail,  lovely  females  —  hail,  ye  grizzled  sages  ! 

griffin  (snarling). 

Not  grizzled !     Griffins  '     No  one  likes  to  hear 
Himself  called  grizzled.     Every  word  betrays 
Its  lineage  by  the  sound  which  it  conveys. 
Gray,  grewsome,  grizzled,  graves,  grim,  grizzly,  all 
Of  the  same  root  etymological, 
Grate  on  our  ears. 

mephistopheles. 

And  yet  it  cannot  be, 
That  in  the  Griffin  you  dislike  the  Gri  ? 


332  FAUST 

GEIFFIN. 

Of  course  not !     Kindred  as  it  is  with  what, 
If  sometimes  censured,  oftener  praise  has  got : 
A  man  should  grasp  at  Beauty,  Empire,  Gold, 
Fortune  the  grasping  favours  and  the  bold. 

ANTS   (of  colossal  size). 

You  speak  of  gold ;  we  had  collected  heaps, 
And  stored  them  close  in  caves  and  rocky  keeps ; 
The  Arimaspians,  they  found  out  the  place, 
Hid  all  away,  and  mock  us  to  our  face. 

GRIFFIN. 

We'll  force  them  to  acknowledge  where  it  lies. 

ARIMASPIAN. 

Not  on  this  night  of  jubilee. 
Until  to-morrow  all  are  free. 
This  time  we're  certain  of  our  prize. 

mephistopheles  (has  stationed  himself  between  the 

Sphinxes). 

Quite  comfortable  here  I  feel, 
For  you  I  comprehend  and  know. 

sphinx. 

Then  what  our  spirit-tones  reveal 

Clothe  thou  with  shape,  if  this  be  so. 

That  we  may  know  thee,  let  thy  name  be  told. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  names  men  call  me  by  are  manifold. 
Say,  are  there  any  Britons  here  ? 


FAUST  333 

They're  always  roaming  far  and  near, 
To  spy  out  battle-fields,  old  crumbling  walls, 
Drear  spots  of  classic  fame,  rocks,  waterfalls. 
Meet  goal  were  this  for  them  !     And  they, 
If  here,  would  testify,  in  the  old  play 
They  talked  of  me  as  Old  Iniquity. 

SPHINX. 

And  why  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

That's  just  what  puzzles  me. 

SPHINX. 

Perhaps  !  perhaps  !     Canst  read  the  starry  book  ? 
What  say'st  thou  to  its  aspect,  then,  to-night  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Star  courses  star,  the  shaven  moon  shines  bright, 
And  I'm  delighted  with  this  cosy  nook, 
And  warm  me  rarely  'gainst  thy  lion's  skin. 
To  go  up  higher  were  a  loss  to  win. 
Come  now,  enigmas  or  charades  propound. 

SPHINX. 

Propound  thyself ;  enigma  more  profound 

Than  thou  'twere  scarcely  possible  to  start. 

So,  then,  essay  to  fathom  what  thou  art. 

"  What  to  the  pious  and  the  heedful, 

Or  wicked  man  alike  is  needful, 

To  that  a  butt,  to  try  his  foil  on, 

To  this  a  chum,  to  folly  to  beguile  on, 

And  every  way  a  thing  for  Zeus  to  smile  on  ? " 

first  griffin   (snarling). 
I  can't  abide  him. 


334  FAUST 

SECOND  GRIFFIN  {snarling  more  vehemently). 
What  does  he  want  here  ? 

BOTH. 

Such  scum  why  should  we  suffer  near  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You  think,  perhaps,  my  nails  are  not  a  match 
For  your  sharp  talons,  should  we  come  to  scratch. 
Try,  then,  just  try  ! 

sphinx  (mildly). 

Eemain,  if  you  desire  ; 
Ere  long  you  will  be  anxious  to  retire. 
At  home  you  can  do  anything  you  please : 
Here,  if  I  err  not,  you  are  ill  at  ease. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Above,  no  daintier  bit  of  flesh  I  know, 
But,  ugh  !  I  shudder  at  the  beast  below. 

SPHINX. 

False  churl,  beware,  or  dearly  shall  ye  rue : 
These  claws  of  ours  are  sharp  and  fell ! 
Lord  of  the  shrunken  hoof,  no  place  for  you 
Our  circle  holds,  and  that  ye  know  full  well. 

[Sirens  preludise  above. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  birds  are  these  on  yonder  bough, 
Among  the  river-willows  there  ? 


FAUST  335 


SPHINX. 


The  best  have  fallen  a  prey,  ere  now, 
To  such  sing-song,  so  thou  beware ! 


SIRENS. 


Ah,  why  wilt  thou  linger  long 
'Midst  the  wondrous,  the  unsightly  ? 
Hark,  we  come,  a  chorus  sprightly, 
Carolling  melodious  song, 
As  beseems  the  siren  throng  ! 


Jo 


sphinx   {mocking  them  in  the  same  melody). 

Force  them  to  come  down,  for  they 
Hide  among  the  leafy  spray 
Their  long  talons,  hooked  and  hideous, 
Which  on  thee  will  fall  perfidious, 
Shouldst  thou  listen  to  their  lay. 

sirens. 

Hatred,  envy,  hence  take  wing ! 
We  the  purest  pleasures  bring, 
Which  beneath  the  welkin  be. 
Best  of  water,  best  of  earth, 
Shapes  of  beauty,  shapes  of  mirth, 
Shall  combine  to  welcome  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  are  the  new  vagaries  fine, 

Where  note  round  note  is  made  to  twine 

From  throat  or  strings  with  curious  art. 

On  me  the  caterwauling's  lost ; 

It  titillates  my  ears  at  most, 

But  fails  to  penetrate  the  heart. 


336  FAUST 

SPHINX. 

Speak  not  of  heart !     What  heart  hast  thou  ? 
A  shrivelled  leathern  flask,  I  vow, 
For  face  like  thine  were  heart  enow. 

faust  (enters). 

How  wondrous !  yet  how  fine  !     Where'er  I  gaze, 
Even  in  the  loathly,  grand  impressive  traits  ! 
There's  something  tells  me,  this  way  fortune  lies ; 
Where  do  they  bear  me,  these  calm  earnest  eyes  ? 

[Indicating  the  Sphinxes. 
Ha !     Before  such  stood  (Edipus  of  yore. 

[Indicating  the  Sirens. 
Even  such  Ulysses  crouched  in  hempen  cords  before. 

[Indicating  the  Ants. 
By  such,  a  priceless  treasure  was  amassed. 

[Indicating  the  Griffins. 
By  these  'twas  guarded  safely  to  the  last. 
With  new-born  life  I  feel  my  soul  expand. 
Grand  are  the  forms,  the  recollections  grand. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Time  was,  you  would  have  banned  these  creatures  here, 
But  now,  it  seems,  to  them  you're  well  inclined ; 
For  where  a  man  is  hunting  for  his  dear, 
Monsters  themselves  a  ready  welcome  find. 

faust  (to  the  Sphinxes). 

Ye  female  forms  must  answer  me  !     Who  e'er 
Among  you  hath  seen  Helena  the  Fair  ? 

SPHINX. 

Not  to  her  age  did  we  pertain. 

The  last  of  us  by  Hercules  was  slain. 

From  Chiron  thou  mayst  tidings  gain. 


FAUST  337 

He  will  be  roaming  hereabout  to-night. 

Much  mayst  thou  hope,  if  thou  canst  stay  his  flight. 

SIRENS. 

Thou,  too,  shouldst  not  lack  for  glory.  .  .  . 

As  Ulysses  stayed  beside  us, 

Neither  mocked  us,  nor  defied  us, 

Much  he  learned  for  after-story. 

Come  unto  the  bright  green  sea, 

Come  and  dwell  with  us,  and  we, 

All  we  know  will  tell  to  thee. 

SPHINX. 

Noble  child  of  earth,  away ! 

Heed  not  their  delusive  lay. 

Let  our  counsels  bind  thee  fast 

As  Ulysses  to  the  mast. 

Find  great  Chiron,  he  will  show 

All  thy  heart  desires  to  know.  [Faust  retires. 

mephistopheles  {peevishly). 

What  are  these  unsightly  things  ? 
How  they  croak  and  flap  their  wings ! 
Scarce  visible,  so  swift  they  go, 
And  one  by  one,  all  in  a  row. 
They  would  tire  a  sportsman,  these. 

SPHINX. 

Like  the  wintry  storm-blast  flying, 
Alcides'  shafts  almost  defying, 
These  are  the  fleet  Stymphalides ; 
Though  in  hoarsest  croakings  sent, 
Yet  their  greeting's  kindly  meant : 
With  their  vulture  beaks,  and  feet 
Webbed  like  geese,  they  fain  would  win 


33*  FAUST 

Footing  here  in  our  retreat, 
As  being  to  ourselves  akin. 

mephistopheles  (scared). 
More  monsters  still  among  them  hiss  and  play ! 


SPHINX. 

These  are  the  heads,  —  nay,  dread  no  ill !  — 

Of  the  Lernean  snake,  that  think  they're  something  still, 

Though  from  the  trunk  dissevered  many  a  day. 

But  what's  the  matter  with  you,  say  ? 

You  look  uneasy,  twist  awry. 

Where  would  you  wish  to  go  ?     Away  ! 

Yon  group,  I  see,  has  caught  your  eye. 

Do  not  constrain  yourself  to  stay. 

Be  gone  to  them  !     You'll  stumble  there 

On  many  a  visage  passing  fair. 

They  are  the  Lamise,  wantons  rare, 

With  smiling  lips  and  foreheads  bold, 

Eevel  with  satyrs  fit  to  hold ; 

With  them  what  may  not  Goatfoot  dare  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You'll  stay,  then,  here  or  hereabout, 
That  I  again  may  find  you  out  ? 

SPHINX. 

Go,  mingle  with  the  revel  rout ! 

Long  has  our  native  Egypt  known 

Our  kith  and  kindred  keep  their  throne 

Thousands  of  years ;  we  shall  not  weary  soon. 

Ours  is  no  fickle  fleeting  state ; 

Moveless  ourselves,  we  regulate 

The  periods  of  the  sun  and  moon. 


FAUST  339 


Before  the  Pyramids  we  sit : 
The  nations  dree  their  doom  before  us 
War,  peace,  or  deluge  —  and  no  whit 
Of  change  or  turning  passes  o'er  us. 


Scene  V.  —  On  the  Lower  Peneios. 

peneios  {surrounded  by  streams  and  Nymphs'). 

Stir,  ye  sedges,  swaying  slowly ; 
Breathe,  ye  tangled  rushes,  lowly  ; 
Wave,  ye  willows,  softly  sighing, 
To  the  aspens'  thrill  replying, 
'Midst  the  pauses  of  my  dreams  ! 
But  a  thund'rous  murmur  dread 
Scares  me  from  my  slumb'rous  bed 
'Neath  the  ever-flowing  streams. 

FAUST  (advancing  to  the  stream). 

Hear  I  rightly,  then  I  ween 
In  behind  the  leafy  screen 
Of  these  woven  boughs  are  noises, 
like  the  sound  of  human  voices. 
Yea,  each  wavelet  seems  to  be 
Brattling,  prattling,  merrily. 

NYMPHS  (to  FAUST). 

Lay  thee  down  lowly, 
Thy  joy  will  be  full ! 
Rest  thy  o'erwearied 
Limbs  in  the  cool. 
The  peace  shall  come  o'er  thee 
That  evermore  flees  thee  ; 
We'll  lisp,  or  we'll  whisper, 
Or  murmur  to  please  thee. 


34°  FAUST 


FAUST. 


I  wake  indeed !     I  see  thern  well, 
These  forms  of  grace  unmatchable, 

In  beauty  palpable  to  sight ! 
What  transports  strange  my  spirit  seize ! 
Can  these  be  dreams,  or  memories, 

The  shadows  of  an  old  delight  ? 
The  lirnpid  waters,  as  they  stray 
Through  bushes  green,  that  gently  sway 

Above  them,  scarce  a  murmur  make ; 
An  hundred  rills  together  meet 
In  one  broad,  clear,  unruffled  sheet 

Of  waters  deep  —  a  crystal  lake  : 
Young  female  forms,  plump,  debonair, 
That  fill  the  eye  with  rapture,  there 

Are  in  the  liquid  mirror  glassed ! 
In  merry  groups  to  bathe  they  come, 
Some  stoutly  swim,  wade  shyly  some, 

Shout,  splash  in  sportive  fray  at  last. 
Could  these  content,  mine  eye  should  find 
Enjoyment  here ;  but  no,  my  mind 

Looks  farther,  and  with  vision  keen 
Would  pierce  yon  thick  embowering  roof 
Of  clustering  leaves,  whose  tangled  woof 

Conceals  the  glory  of  their  queen. 


Oh,  wonderful !     Swans  bright  of  hue, 
From  leaf-screened  nooks  swim  into  view 

With  slow  majestic  pace, 
All  side  by  side  serenely  steering, 
Their  neck  and  crest  right  proudly  rearing, 

As  conscious  of  their  grace. 
Yet  one  that  breasts  the  glassy  tide, 
Outstripping  all,  a  statelier  pride 

And  bearing  seems  to  vaunt : 


FAUST  341 

With  pinions  all  blown  proudly  out, 
He  cleaves  the  waves  that  curl  about, 

And  nears  the  sacred  haunt. 
The  rest  glide  softly  to  and  fro, 
With  feathers  smooth  and  white  as  snow ; 

But  lo !  their  crests  in  wrath  they  set, 
And  put  to  flight  the  fearful  maids, 
Who,  seeking  safety  in  the  glades, 

Their  mistress-queen  forget. 


NYMPHS. 

Sisters,  sisters,  lay  your  ear 

To  the  shore's  green  brink,  and  say, 
If,  like  me,  the  beats  you  hear 

Of  horses'  hooves  that  come  this  way. 
Much  I  marvel,  who  to-night 
Message  bears  in  stormy  flight ! 


FAUST. 

The  earth  rings  with  a  hollow  sound, 

As  from  a  flying  courser's  bound ! 

There,  there,  see  there  ! 

Should  fate  so  rare 

Be  mine,  then,  then  would  all  be  well, 

Oh,  marvel  without  parallel ! 

A  horseman  on  a  snowy  steed,  — 

High  mettle  in  his  looks  I  read, — 

Comes  trampling  on  and  on  to  me. 

I  do  not  err  —  'tis  he,  the  son 

Of  Philyra,  the  far-famed  one ! 

Stop,  Chiron,  stop !     I'd  speak  with  thee. 

CHIRON. 

How  now  ?     What  wouldst  thou  ? 


342  FAUST 

FAUST. 
Pause,  I  prithee. 

CHIRON. 

I  may  not  rest. 

FAUST. 

Then  take  me  with  thee ! 

CHIRON. 

Mount !     And  I  then  may  question  thee  at  will. 
Whither  wouldst  go  ?     Thou  stand'st  here  on  the 

banks  — 
Wouldst  cross  the  stream  ?     I'll  take  thee.     Pausing 

still  ? 

faust  (mounting). 

Where'er  thou  wilt  —  and  win  my  endless  thanks. 
The  great  man  thou,  the  teacher  rich  in  glory, 
Who  reared  a  race  of  heroes  high  and  bold, 
Those  gallant  Argonauts  renowned  in  story, 
And  all  who  made  the  poet's  world  of  old. 

CHIRON. 

Best  speak  no  more  of  that !     E'en  Pallas  hath 

Not  always  honour  as  a  Mentor  gained ; 

Men  will  be  men,  and  hold  their  wayward  path, 

Do  what  we  will,  as  though  they'd  ne'er  been  trained. 

FAUST. 

The  leech  who  gives  a  name  to  every  plant, 

Knows  every  root,  its  virtue,  and  its  haunt, 

Has  balm  for  every  wound,  and  physic  for  each  pain, 

With  mind  and  body's  force  here  to  my  heart  I  strain. 


FAUST  343 

CHIRON. 

Were  hero  striken  down,  I  still  could  find 
All  needful  aid  and  skill  his  hurt  requires, 
But  I  my  leechcraft  long  long  since  resigned 
To  simple-culling  beldames  and  to  friars.1 

FAUST. 

The  truly  great  art  thou,  whose  ear 
His  proper  praise  is  loath  to  hear, 
Who  shrinks  from  view,  and  seems  to  be 
But  one  of  many  great  as  he. 

CHIRON. 

And  thou,  methinks,  hast  flattering  wile, 
Both  prince  and  people  to  beguile. 

FAUST. 

At  least  confess  thou  hast  stood  face  to  face 
With  all  the  best  and  greatest  of  thy  time, 
With  noblest  spirits  vied  in  virtue's  race, 
And  lived  the  strenuous  life  of  demigods  sublime. 
Then  tell  me,  'midst  these  grand  heroic  forms, 
Which  of  them  all  possessed  the  goodliest  charms  ? 

CHIRON. 

In  that  brave  Argonautic  circle  shone 
Each  hero  with  a  lustre  of  his  own, 
And  by  the  force  that  in  his  soul  prevailed 
Supplied  the  void  wherein  his  comrades  failed. 

luWell  did  poets  feign  JEsculapius  and  Circe,  brother  and 
sister,  and  both  children  of  the  sun  ;  for  in  all  times,  in  the  opinion 
of  the  multitude,  witches,  old  women,  and  impostors  have  had  a 
competition  with  physicians.  And  commonly  the  most  ignorant 
are  the  most  confident  in  their  undertakings,  and  will  not  stick 
to  tell  you  what  disease  the  gall  of  a  dove  is  good  to  cure."  — 
Fuller's  Holy  and  Prophane  State.     The  Good  Physician. 


344  FAUST 

Ever  where  youth  and  manly  grace  held  sway, 
The  Dioscuri  bore  the  palm  away. 
Eesolve  and  speed  to  act  for  others'  ease 
The  glory  was  of  the  Boreades. 
Far-seeing,  wary,  firm,  in  council  wise, 
So  lorded  Jason,  dear  to  woman's  eyes. 
Then  Orpheus,  gentle,  given  to  muse  apart, 
Whene'er  he  swept  the  lyre,  subdued  each  heart. 
Keen-sighted  Lynceus,  he,  by  shine  and  dark, 
Steered  on  o'er  rock  and  shoal  the  sacred  bark. 
The  danger  many  share  we  scarcely  fear, 
And  toil  grows  light,  with  others  by  to  cheer. 


FAUST. 

But  wilt  thou  tell  me  now  of  Hercules  ? 

CHIRON. 

Oh,  woe  !     Awaken  not  sad  memories  ! 
Nor  Mars,  nor  Phoebus  had  I  viewed, 

Nor  Hermes,  born  of  Maia's  line, 
When  on  a  day  before  me  stood 

What  all  men  worship  as  divine. 
A  monarch  born  was  he,  in  all 

Youth's  noblest  graces  past  compare  ! 
And  yet  his  elder  brother's  thrall, 

And  thrall  of  women  passing  fair. 
Not  earth  shall  yield  his  like  again, 

Nor  Hebe  to  the  gods  present ; 
Men  weave  for  him  their  lays  in  vain, 

In  vain  the  sculptured  stone  torment. 

FAUST. 

So  then,  not  all  the  sculptor's  cunning  can 
Embody  charms  so  superhuman  ! 


FAUST  345 

Thou'st  told  me  of  the  finest  man, 
Now  tell  me  of  the  finest  woman. 

CHIRON. 

What !     Woman's  beauty  to  portray, 

I  deem  it  but  a  bootless  task ; 
Too  oft  it  is,  alas  the  day ! 

An  icy-chill  and  moveless  mask. 
But  her  alone  can  I  account 

As  lovely,  be  she  maid  or  wife, 
From  whom  doth  flow,  as  from  a  fount, 

A  stream  of  bright  and  gladsome  life. 
Self-blest  is  beauty,  look  who  list, 
Grace  has  a  charm  none  may  resist, 
Like  Helena,  whom  once  I  bore. 

FAUST. 

Whom  once  you  bore  ? 

CHIRON. 

Ay,  on  my  back. 

FAUST. 

Was  I  not  crazed  enough  before, 
But  I  must  light  on  such  a  track  ? 

CHIRON. 

She  twined  her  hand  into  my  hair, 
As  thou  dost  now. 

FAUST. 

Oh,  joy  most  rare  ! 
My  senses  reel !     Say  how,  I  pray. 
She  only  is  my  soul's  desire  ! 
Whence,  whither  didst  thou  bear  her,  say  ? 


346  FAUST 

CHIRON. 

Soon  told  is  what  you  thus  require ! 
The  Dioscuri  had  —  it  happened  then  — 
Freed  their  young  sister  from  some  thievish  men, 
Who,  little  used  to  yield,  took  heart  of  grace, 
And,  mad  with  fury,  gave  their  victors  chase. 
On  sped  the  fugitives,  but  the  morass 
Hard  by  Eleusis  checked  them  as  they  flew ; 
The  brothers,  wading  o'er,  contrived  to  pass, 
I  caught  her  up,  and,  swimming,  bore  her  through. 
Then  she  leapt  down,  and,  in  a  childlike  vein, 
Playing  and  fondling  with  my  dripping  mane, 
Thanked  me  in  tones  so  sweet,  yet  calm  and  sage. 
Oh,  what  a  charm  she  had !     Young,  yet  the  joy  of 
age ! 

FAUST. 

Scarce  seven  years  old. 

CHIRON. 

The  philologues,  I  see, 
Self-mystified  themselves,  have  cheated  thee. 
Your  mythologic  woman's  of  a  kind 
Unlike  all  other  members  of  her  sex ; 
Each  poet  paints  her  after  his  own  mind, 
And  with  his  own  peculiar  fancies  decks. 
Never  too  young,  nor  ever  old,  her  form 
Wears  at  all  times  a  soul-enkindling  charm ; 
When  young,  she's  ravished  —  old,  she's  courted  still. 
Enough !     Time  cannot  bind  the  poet's  will. 

FAUST. 

Then  why  by  time  should  Helena  be  bound  ? 
At  Phene  she  was  by  Achilles  found, 
Beyond  the  verge  of  Time.     Oh,  rare  delight, 
To  triumph  where  he  loved,  in  fate's  despite ! 


FAUST  347 

And  should  not  I  on  this  wild  heart  of  mine 

Bear  back  to  life  that  perfect  form  divine ; 

That  peer  of  gods,  that  soul  of  endless  time, 

As  grand  as  gentle,  winning  as  sublime  ? 

Thou  long  ago,  but  I  to-day  have  seen 

That  shape  of  light,  and  dignity  serene, 

Fair  to  the  eye,  as  in  her  grace  most  rare, 

And  loved,  desired,  adored  as  she  is  fair ! 

Now  am  I  bound  her  slave,  sense,  soul,  and  thought ; 

Come  death,  and  welcome,  if  I  win  her  not ! 

CHIRON. 

Strange  being !     Men  would  call  you  rapturous, 

We  spirits  simply  mad,  in  doting  thus. 

But  by  good  luck  the  tit  has  seized  you  here ; 

For  'tis  my  usage,  once  in  every  year, 

To  call  on  Manto,  Esculapius'  daughter, 

Who  doth  in  silent  prayer  her  sire  implore, 

Even  for  the  love  and  reverence  which  he  taught  her, 

Some  rays  of  light  on  leeches'  minds  to  pour, 

And  turn  them  from  their  headlong  course  of  slaughter. 

I  love  her  most  of  all  the  Sibyl  guild. 

Not  given  to  fancies  she,  nor  fond  pretence, 

But  meek  and  gentle,  yet  profoundly  skilled, 

Unwearied  in  a  wise  beneficence. 

Stay  some  short  space  with  her,  and,  trust  me,  she 

With  potent  roots  will  cure  thee  utterly. 

FAUST. 

Cured  ?     I  will  not  be  cured  !     My  soul  is  strong  ! 
It  will  not  grovel  with  the  vulgar  throng. 

CHIRON. 

Slight  not  the  virtues  of  the  noble  fount ! 

But  see,  we're  at  the  place.     Be  quick,  dismount ! 


348  FAUST 


FAUST. 

Whither  to  land  through  the  grim  dark  hast  thou 
Across  the  pebbly  shallows  brought  me  now  ? 

CHIRON. 

Here  by  Peneios  and  Olympus  too, 
Rome  grappled  Greece  in  fight,  and  overthrew 
The  mightiest  empire  e'er  has  known  decay. 
The  burgher  triumphs  and  the  king  gives  way. 
Look  up  and  see,  above  thee,  close  at  hand, 
The  eternal  temple  in  the  moonshine  stand ! 

MANTO  (muttering  in  a  dream). 

Hoof -beats  there 

Ring  on  the  steps  of  the  sacred  stair ! 

Some  demigods  are  nigh  ! 

CHIRON. 

Right !  right !   Arouse  thee  !    Wake  !   'Tis  I,  'tis  I ! 

manto  {awaking). 
Welcome !     I  see  thou  still  art  true. 

CHIRON. 

And  still  thy  temple-home  is  standing,  too. 

MANTO. 

Dost  thou  still  wander,  tiring  never  ? 

CHIRON. 

Thou  liv'st  in  calm  contentment  ever, 
Whilst  I  go  circling  round  the  sphere. 


FAUST  349 


MAN  TO. 


Time  circles  me,  I  tarry  here. 
But  he  ? 

CHIRON. 

This  night  of  eldritch  glee 
Hath  whirled  him  hitherward  with  me. 
Helen  hath  set  his  brains  a-spin  — 
Helen  he  is  intent  to  win, 
But  weets  not  how  he  shall  begin. 
A  patient  he,  of  all  men  best, 
Thine  Esculapian  skill  to  test. 

MANTO. 

Me  do  such  spirits  chiefly  please 
As  crave  impossibilities. 

[Chiron  is  already  far  away. 

MANTO  (to  FAUST). 

On,  daring  heart !     Bliss  shall  be  thine  ! 
This  dusky  path  conducts  to  Proserpine. 
Deep  in  Olympus'  caverned  base  sits  she, 
And  waits  forbidden  greetings  secretly. 
I  once  sped  Orpheus  on  this  murky  way  — 
Push  on,  be  bold,  and  wiser  heed  display. 

[TJiey  descend. 


Scene  VI.  —  On  the  Upper  Peneios  as  before. 

SIRENS. 

Plunge  into  Peneios  !     There, 
Oh,  what  joy,  as  on  we  swim 
And  plash  about,  our  songs  to  hymn 
For  these  poor  mortals  all  too  fair ! 


35°  FAUST 

Water  is  of  health  the  spring ! 

Haste  ye  then,  and,  when  we  gain 

The  ^Egean's  azure  main, 

Rare  shall  be  our  revelling  !  [Earthquake. 

All  afoam  the  wave  runs  back, 
Flows  no  longer  in  its  track  ; 
Quakes  the  ground,  the  waters  shiver, 
Bank  and  gravel  smoke  and  quiver. 
Let  us  fly !     Come,  sisters  all, 
Lest  disaster  worse  befall ! 

Away,  and  let  our  pastime  be 
In  bright  ocean's  Jubilee, 
Where  the  billows,  rippling  o'er, 
Break  in  sparkles  on  the  shore ; 
Where  Selene  o'er  our  heads 
Her  serenest  lustre  spreads, 
And,  mirrored  in  the  ocean  blue, 
Moistens  all  with  holy  dew. 
There  is  gladsome  life  and  free, 
Earthquake  here  and  agony. 
Haste,  then,  hence,  if  ye  be  wise  ! 
On  this  region  horror  lies. 

seismos  (growling  and  grumbling  underground). 

One  more  thrust  with  might  and  main, 
Set  the  shoulders  to  the  strain, 
So  shall  we  the  surface  gain, 
Where  all  must  give  way  before  us ! 

SPHINX. 

What  a  tremor's  here,  what  rumbling, 
What  a  grewsome  grating,  grumbling, 
What  a  reeling,  quaking,  ho  ! 
Oscillation  to  and  fro  ! 


FAUST  35 1 


Tis  a  most  provoking  pinch, 
Yet  shall  we  not  move  an  inch, 
Though  all  hell  itself  broke  o'er  us ! 


Now  in  wondrous  wise  a  mound 

Swells  and  rises  from  the  ground. 

'Tis  that  very  old  man  hoar 

Built  up  Delos'  isle  of  yore, 

Heaving  it  from  ocean's  deep, 

Safe  a  teeming  dame  to  keep. 

Thrusting,  squeezing,  straining  thew, 

Stretching  arms,  and  bending  shoulders, 

He,  like  Atlas  to  the  view, 

Heaves  up  earth  and  turf  and  boulders, 

Sand  and  gravel,  shale  and  clay, 

Tranquil  strata  of  our  bay. 

So  a  section  up  he  rends, 

Eight  across  the  vale  extends. 

Though  waist-deep  in  earth  still  squatted, 

The  colossal  Caryatid 

Bears  unmoved,  without  a  groan, 

A  tremendous  bulk  of  stone. 

Nearer  it  shall  not  approach, 

Nor  upon  our  haunt  encroach. 

SEISMOS. 

Alone,  alone  I  did  it !     Truly 

Men  will  this  at  last  allow. 

Had  I  not  shaken  it  up  so  throughly, 

This  world,  would  it  be  fair  as  now  ? 

How  should  yon  mountain-ridges  cleave 

The  gorgeous  depths  of  ether  blue, 

Had  I  not  thrust  them  forth,  to  weave 

A  beauty  picturesque  to  view  ? 

When,  whilst  my  primal  sires  looked  on  — 

Night  and  old  Chaos  —  I  my  force  displayed, 


352  FAUST. 

And,  of  the  Titans  the  companion, 

With  Pelion,  as  at  ball,  and  Ossa  played, 

Wildly  we  plied  our  youthful  freaks, 

Until,  to  crown  them  all,  at  last, 

Like  a  twin  cap  two  mountain-peaks 

We  on  Parnassus  madly  cast, 

Where  now,  for  sport  and  joyance,  meet 

Apollo  and  the  Muses'  choir. 

I  even  upheaved  the  glorious  seat 

Of  Jove,  and  all  his  bolts  of  fire. 

So  now  with  stress  stupendous  I 

Have  struggled  up  from  depths  profound, 

And  for  inhabitants  I  cry, 

To  spread  new  life  and  stir  around. 

SPHINX. 

This  for  birth  of  primal  eld 

We  assuredly  had  taken, 

Had  we  not  ourselves  beheld 

How  it  from  the  ground  was  shaken. 

Still  upward  brake  and  forest  spread, 

And  rocks  on  rocks  still  forward  tread ; 

But  not  for  things  like  these  shall  Sphinx  retreat 

They  shall  not  drive  us  from  our  sacred  seat. 

GRIFFINS. 

Gold  in  specks  and  veins  I  spy 
Gleam  in  fissures  all  about : 

Let  not  such  a  prize  slip  by ; 
Emmets,  up,  and  pick  it  out ! 

CHORUS    OF    ANTS. 

Fast  as  the  giant  ones 
Yonder  upheave  it, 
Seize  it,  ye  pliant  ones, 
And  never  leave  it. 


FAUST  353 

Quick !     Every  cranny  in 
Hanging  and  rifling; 
None  that  there's  any  in 
Can  be  too  trifling. 
Murkiest,  shiniest, 
Look  ye  explore  it ; 
Each  speck,  the  tiniest, 
Seize  it  and  store  it. 
Work  away  with  a  will, 
Till  it's  all  rolled  out: 
Move  the  hill  how  it  will, 
Do  you  get  its  gold  out ! 

GRIFFIN. 

Pile  the  gold  up !     Pile  away  ! 
We  on  it  our  claws  will  lay. 
Be  the  treasure  what  it  may, 
Surest  of  all  bolts  are  they  ! 

PIGMIES. 

We  have  found  a  footing  here ; 

How,  a  puzzle  is  would  task  us. 

That  we've  come,  is  very  clear ; 

Whence  we  come,  then,  do  not  ask  us ! 

Every  country,  where  life  glows, 

Finds  a  master  soon  to  guide  it ; 

So  no  rock  a  fissure  shows, 

But  a  dwarf  is  straight  beside  it. 

There  his  busy  toil  he  plies, 

Model  spouse  with  model  mate ; 

If  'twas  so  in  Paradise, 

That  is  more  than  1  can  state. 

But  we  like  this  for  a  nest. 

Bless  the  stars  that  hither  sent  us, 

In  the  East  as  in  the  West 

Mother  Earth  yields  foison  plenteous. 


354  FAUST 

DACTYLS. 

If  she  in  a  night  these  small 
Imps  did  into  being  call, 
Smaller  still  she  will  create, 
And  with  kindred  creatures  mate. 

THE    OLDEST    OF    THE    PIGMIES. 

Hasten,  and  fit  ye 
Stoutly  to  quit  ye. 
Get  to  work  quickly  ! 
Strike  your  strokes  thickly  ! 
In  force  though  they  fail, 
Let  their  swiftness  prevail. 
Peace  still  is  with  ye ! 
Up  with  the  stithy, 
Buckler  and  glaive 
To  forge  for  the  brave. 

And  you,  ye  emmets,  ho, 
Swarming  there  to  and  fro, 
Metals  with  swiftest  speed 
Fetch  for  our  need  ! 
Ye  dactyls  slumberless, 
Tiny,  but  numberless, 
Quick,  from  the  brake 
Fetch  faggot  and  stake ! 
Pile  the  fire,  heap  it  up, 
Feed  it,  and  keep  it  up, 
Charcoal  to  make ! 

GENEKALISSIMO. 

With  arrow  and  bow 
Away  !     Hillio,  ho  ! 
Shoot  me  those  herons 
Down  by  the  marsh  there, 


FAUST  355 


Clustering  numberless, 
Croaking  so  harsh  there  ! 
Quick,  let  me  see  them 
Slain  altogether! 
So  shall  we  prank  it 
In  helmet  and  feather ! 


ANTS   AND    DACTYLS. 

Iron  we  bring  them  — 
Ah,  who  is  to  save  us  ?  — 
Which  into  fetters 
They  forge  to  enslave  us. 
Not  yet  is  the  hour  come 
To  rise  up  defiant ; 
Then  be  to  your  tyrants 
Submissive  and  pliant. 

THE    CRANES    OF   IBYCUS. 

Shrieks  of  murder,  dying  groans, 

Wings  that  flutter  in  dismay, 

Oh,  what  outcry  and  what  moans 

To  our  peaks  here  pierce  their  way ! 

They  are  all  already  slain, 

All  the  lake  their  blood  doth  stain. 

Wanton  passion  for  display 

Shore  the  heron's  plumes  away. 

See  it  on  the  helmet  wave 

Of  each  bow-legged  pot-bellied  knave ! 

Ye  companions  of  our  host, 

That  in  troops  o'er  ocean  post, 

We  to  vengeance  call  you,  in 

A  cause  so  near  your  own  akin. 

Death,  so  we  avenge  their  fate ! 

To  this  rabble  deathless  hate ! 

[Disperse,  croaking  in  the  air. 


356  FAUST 

mephistopheles  (on  the  plain). 

The  northern  witches  I  could  manage  featly ; 

But  those  strange  phantoms  baffle  me  completely. 

And  then  the  Blocksberg's  such  a  handy  site, 

Go  anywhere  you  will,  you're  always  right. 

Dame  Ilsa  on  her  stone  keeps  watch  and  ward ; 

Henry  upon  his  peak  holds  cheery  guard ; 

Then  to  Despair  the  Snorers  snort  and  blow 

All  as  they  did  a  thousand  years  ago. 

But  here,  stand  still  or  walk,  who's  he  can  say 

If  under  him  the  ground  will  not  give  way  ? 

Through  a  smooth  dell  as  pleasantly  I  stroll, 

Up  all  at  once  behind  me  starts  a  whole 

Hillside,  yet  scarcely  to  be  called  a  hill, 

And  yet  quite  high  enough  to  part  me  still 

From  my  pet  Sphinxes.     Down  the  valley  here 

Fires  flicker,  flashing  round  strange  shapes  and  drear. 

Dancing  and  wheeling  see  yon  winsome  crew 

With  becks  and  wiles  enticing  to  pursue. 

Soho,  then !     We,  who're  used  to  toothsome  fare, 

Must  still  be  hankering,  no  matter  where. 

lamle  (luring  mephistopheles  after  them). 

Onward,  still  onward, 
Faster  and  faster ! 
Then  with  a  spiteful 
Coyness  delaying, 
Prattling  and  playing, 
He'll  think  he's  the  winner. 
'Tis  so  delightful, 
Thus  the  old  sinner 
To  lure  and  o'ermaster ! 
Fretting  and  groaning, 
His  stiff  foot  bemoaning, 
Hark,  he  comes  grumbling, 
Stumbling  and  tumbling ! 


FAUST  357 

Do  what  he  will, 
While  before  him  we  fly. 
Be  it  far,  be  it  nigh, 
He  must  follow  us  still ! 

mephistopheles   (stands  still). 

Curst  fate  !     Born  but  to  be  made  fools  of ! 
From  Adam  made  mere  dolts  and  tools  of  ! 
We  all  grow  old,  but  who  grows  steady  ? 
Wert  thou  not  fooled  enough  already  ? 
We  know  they're  good  for  nothing,  all  the  race. 
Pinched  at  the  girdle,  painted  in  the  face ; 
No  bit  about  them  wholesome,  firm,  and  sound, 
They  fall  to  pieces  if  you  clasp  them  round ; 
We  know  it,  feel  it,  see  it  at  a  glance  — 
Yet  let  them  pipe,  and  after  them  we  dance. 

LAMI^E  (stopping). 

Stay  !  he  reflects  —  he  pauses  —  lingers. 
Advance,  or  he'll  slip  through  your  fingers ! 

mephistopheles  (striding  on). 

Push  on  !     Let  no  uneasy  twitches 
Of  foolish  doubting  stay  your  revel : 
Good  gracious  !  if  there  were  no  witches, 
Who,  who  the  deuce  would  be  the  devil  ? 

LAMI^E   (in  coaxing  tones). 

Round  this  hero,  round  we  run ; 
Soon  within  his  heart  for  one 
Of  us,  full  sire,  will  love  ensue. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Truly  in  this  twilight  gleam 
Damsels  fair  to  view  ye  seem, 
So  I  can't  be  wroth  with  you. 


358  FAUST 

empusa  (pressing  forward). 

Nor  yet  with  me !     Me  too  admit, 
As  for  your  company  most  fit. 


LAMLE. 

She  amongst  us  is  too  many  ; 
Always  spoils  our  sport,  the  zany  ! 


EMPUSA    (to   MEPHISTOPHELES). 

From  your  dear  cousin  hold  aloof, 
Empusa  with  the  ass's  hoof  ? 
You've  but  a  horse's  hoof ;  yet  still, 
Sir  Kinsman,  hail,  with  right  good  will ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  fancied  no  one  knew  me  here, 
Yet  find  relations  —  that's  severe ! 
The  old,  old  tale  —  Go  where  you  will, 
From  Harz  to  Hellas,  kinsfolk  still ! 

EMPUSA. 

With  much  decision  I  can  act ; 
Can  take  what  shape  I  please,  in  fact. 
But  in  your  honour,  for  the  nonce, 
I've  donned  just  now  this  ass's  sconce. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  folk,  they  set  great  store,  I  see, 
By  being  of  the  family  ; 
Yet  come  what  will,  —  disaster,  shame,  - 
The  ass's  head  I  will  disclaim  ! 


FAUST  359 


LAMLE. 


Avoid  this  hag  !  who  puts  to  flight 
All  that  is  most  fair  and  bright : 
What  was  fair  and  bright  before, 
When  she  conies,  is  so  no  more. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

These  cousins,  too,  so  smooth  of  speech, 
I'm  doubtful  of  them,  all  and  each. 
Behind  their  cheeks  so  rosy  red 
Some  metamorphosis  I  dread. 


LAMLE. 

Come  set  to  work  now !     We  are  many. 
Essay  your  luck,  —  if  you  have  any, 
The  first  prize  you  may  win.     Come,  try ! 
What  means  this  pitiful  to-do  ? 
A  miserable  wooer  you, 
To  strut  and  bear  your  head  so  high  ! 
And  now  amongst  us  see  him  skip ; 
Your  masks  off  slow  and  slyly  slip, 
And  be  your  true  selves  by  and  by. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I've  caught  the  prettiest  and  most  lissome  — 

[Embracing  her. 

Ugh,  ugh  !     The  dry  old  withered  besom  ! 

[Seizing  another. 

And  this  one  ?     The  disgusting  fright ! 


LAMI.E. 

Ha  !  have  we  caught  you  ?     Serves  you  right ! 


360  FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  had  the  short  one  in  my  grips  — 

A  lizard  from  my  finger  slips, 

With  poll  most  serpent-like  and  smooth ! 

Anon  the  taller  jade  I  clasp  — 

A  Thyrsus-staff  is  in  my  grasp, 

With  pine-cone  for  a  head,  forsooth ! 

What  means  it  all  ?     The  stout  one  there, 

Better  with  her  perchance  I'll  fare. 

One  venture  more,  —  the  last,  —  here  goes ! 

Juicy  and  plump,  just  of  the  size 

The  Orientals  highly  prize. 

Ugh  !     The  puff-ball  bursts  beneath  my  nose  ! 

lami^e. 

Away,  and  round  him  flit,  now  like 

The  lightning,  now  all  blackness !     Strike 

The  witch's  baffled  son  with  fear ! 

On  silent  wings,  a  ghastly  crew, 

Wheel  round  like  bats !     We'll  make  him  rue 

The  hour  he  thought  of  coming  here. 

mephistopheles  (shaking  himself). 

I  have  not  grown  much  wiser,  'twould  appear. 

They're  idiots  in  the  north,  they're  idiots  here. 

They're  humbugs  here  as  there,  the  ghostly  crew, 

And  bores  the  bards  and  people  too. 

Here  has  been  precious  mumming,  and 

Sense  has,  as  usual,  had  the  upper  hand. 

At  features  fair  a  clutch  I  made, 

And  in  my  grasp  found  what  appalled  me ; 

Yet  had  it  only  longer  stayed, 

Even  that  delusion  had  enthralled  me. 

[Losing  his  way  among  the  rocks. 
Where  am  I  ?     What  is  this,  and  how  ? 
This  was  a  path,  'tis  chaos  now. 


FAUST  36 1 

The  road  was  smooth  ;  but  boulders,  lo  ! 
At  every  turn  perplex  my  feet. 
Vainly  I  clamber  to  and  fro  — 
Nowhere  can  I  my  Sphinxes  meet. 
One  ni«ht  a  hill  like  this  to  breed ! 

o 

Who  could  have  dreamt  so  mad  a  thing  ? 

A  jolly  witches'  ride,  indeed, 

When  they  with  them  their  Blocksberg  bring ! 

OREAD  (from  the  natural  rock). 

Up  here  !     My  mountain's  old  as  time  ; 
Its  shape  the  same  as  in  its  prime. 
My  precipices  jagged  and  sheer, 
Pindus'  extremest  spur,  revere  ! 
Unshaken  here  I  lift  my  head, 
As  when  across  me  Pompey  fled. 
That  dream-begotten  phantasm  there 
At  cock-crow  will  dissolve  in  air. 
Such  fabled  forms  I  ofttimes  see 
Arise,  then  vanish  suddenly. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Be  honour  thine,  thou  reverend  head, 
With  sturdy  oaks  engarlanded ! 
To  thy  recesses  dark  and  deep 
The  brightest  moonshine  cannot  creep. 
But  down  by  yonder  brushwood  strays 
A  light  that  glows  with  modest  rays. 
What  strange  coincidence  is  this  ? 
Homunculus  ?     It  is,  it  is  ! 
Whither  away,  my  little  friend  ? 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Thus  on  from  spot  to  spot  I  wend. 

Much  do  I  long  to  burst  my  glassy  screen, 


362  FAUST 

And  in  the  best  sense  into  life  to  enter ; 

Only  from  all  that  I  as  yet  have  seen, 

I  can't  find  courage  for  the  venture. 

But  hearken  in  your  ear  !     On  two 

Philosophers  I've  stumbled,  who 

Are  wrapt  in  deep  debate,  and  all  their  talk 

Is  "  Nature,  Nature,"  as  they  walk. 

I'll  keep  by  them ;  for  they,  I  wis, 

Must  know  what  earthly  being  is. 

And  I  at  last  am  sure  to  learn, 

Whither  'tis  best  for  me  to  turn. 


MEPHISTOPHELES. 

What  your  own  instinct  prompts  pursue. 

For  where  ghosts  find  a  lodgment,  your 

Philosopher  is  welcome  too. 

And  be  they  many,  be  they  few, 

To  show  his  skill  off,  he  is  sure 

To  conjure  up  a  dozen  new. 

Make  no  mistakes,  and  you  will  ne'er  be  wise. 

By  your  own  doings  into  being  rise ! 


HOMUNCULUS. 

Still,  good  advice  it  were  not  wise  to  miss. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Go  your  own  way !     We  shall  see  more  of  this. 

[They  separate. 

ANAXAGOKAS  (to  THALES). 

Will  not  your  stubborn  mind  the  truth  concede, 
Or  do  you  further  demonstration  need  ? 


FAUST  363 


THALES. 


The  wave  is  stirred  by  every  breeze  that  creeps, 
But  from  the  beetling  crags  far  off  it  keeps. 


ANAXAGORAS. 

This  mountain-ridge  to  fire  its  being  owes. 


THALES. 

From  moisture  all  that  lives  to  being  rose. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Let  me  go  side  by  side  with  you. 
I  yearn  to  rise  to  being  too. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

Could  you,  O  Thales,  in  one  night  produce 
A  mountain  such  as  this  from  mud  and  ooze  ? 

THALES. 

Nature,  has  she  with  her  creative  powers 
E'er  had  regard  to  days,  and  nights,  and  hours  ? 
Calm  and  serene  she  plies  her  shaping  hand ; 
It  is  not  violence  makes  even  what  is  grand. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

But  here  it  did !     Eaging  Plutonic  fire, 

Steam  pent  for  ages,  with  explosion  dire 

Burst  through  the  ancient  crusts  of  earth,  and  threw 

A  mountain  in  a  moment  into  view. 

THALES. 

What  boots  it  to  continue  this  debate  ? 

The  mountain's  there ;  that's  well,  at  any  rate. 


364  FAUST 

In  such  disputes  no  one  step  we  advance, 
Yet  lead  the  patient  crowd  a  precious  dance. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

See,  from  the  mountain  how  in  bevies 
They  stream  to  fill  each  chasm  and  crevice ! 
With  pigmies,  ants,  and  gnomes  it  rings, 
And  other  bustling  tiny  things. 

[To  Homunculus. 
Within  your  hermit  cell  retired, 
To  greatness  you  have  ne'er  aspired. 
To  rule  if  you  your  mind  can  bring, 
I'll  have  you  straightway  crowned  their  king. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

What  says  my  Thales  ? 

THALES. 

I  say  no ! 
With  little  people,  little  deeds  ; 
With  great  ones  even  the  little  grow 
To  size,  and  greatness  greatness  breeds. 
Look  at  these  cranes,  a  dusky  cloud  ! 
They  threaten  yon  excited  crowd, 
And  so  would  threaten,  too,  the  king. 
Downward  they  swoop  on  rushing  wing, 
With  bony  claw  and  pointed  beak, 
Their  vengeance  on  the  dwarfs  to  wreak. 
The  very  air  is  charged  with  doom, 
And  tempest  hurtles  through  the  gloom 
A  wicked  elf  the  herons  slew, 
As  round  their  quiet  mere  they  drew. 
But  that  death-laden  arrowy  sleet 
Arouses  vengeance  fell  and  meet, 
And  in  their  kin  such  ire  doth  wake, 
As  blood,  and  blood  alone  can  slake. 


FAUST  365 

What  now  avail  shield,  helm,  or  spear  ? 
Their  heron-plumes,  what  boot  they  ?     See, 
How  ant  and  dactyl  disappear ! 
The  hosts,  they  reel,  they  turn,  they  flee. 


ANAXAGORAS  {after  a  pause,  solemnly). 

If  hitherto  my  praise 

Has  to  the  subterranean  powers  been  given, 

In  this  conjuncture  I  uplift  my  gaze 

To  those  that  have  their  seat  in  heaven. 

Oh,  Throned  above,  through  endless  time 

Wearing  the  freshness  of  thy  prime, 

Thee  I  invoke,  thee  now  as  then  the  same, 

Threefold  in  form,  threefold  in  name, 

My  people  in  their  woe  to  free, 

Diana,  Luna,  Hecate  ! 

Thou  the  bosom  that  expandest, 

Thou  of  thinkers  deepest,  grandest, 

Thou  aspect  serene  that  wearest, 

Thou  a  soul  of  fire  that  bearest, 

Open  the  abysses  drear 

Of  thy  shadowy  glooms  —  and  here, 

With  no  necromancer's  aid, 

Be  thine  ancient  power  displayed !  [Pause. 

Is  my  prayer  too  quickly  heard  ? 

By  its  force 

Has  the  course 

Of  nature  been  disturbed  and  marred  ? 

And  larger,  ever  larger,  and  more  near 

The  goddess'  orbed  throne  wheels  down  the  sphere ! 

Fearful  to  the  eye  and  dread 

Turns  its  fire  to  dusky  red. 

No  nearer  !     Mighty  threatening  ball, 

Thou'lt  crush  us,  land  and  sea,  and  all ! 

Was  it  then  true,  that  hags  Thessalian  by 

Dark  incantations  from  the  sky 


366  FAUST 

Drew  thee  down,  and  wrung  from  thee 

Blight  and  bane  and  misery  ? 

The  shining  disk's  o'ercast.     It  crashes ! 

And  now  it  lightens  and  it  flashes ! 

What  din,  what  rushing,  whizzing,  pouring ; 

What  gusts  of  wind  through  thunder  roaring ! 

Behold  me  fall,  abashed  and  prone, 

Down  at  the  footstool  of  thy  throne ! 

'Twas  I  invoked  thee,  I !     Do  thou 

Forgive,  forgive  my  madness  now ! 

[  Throws  himself  on  his  face. 

THALES. 

What  things  this  man  has  heard  and  seen ! 

They  may  or  they  may  not  have  been ; 

But  I  felt  nothing,  ne'ertheless. 

Mad  hours  are  these,  we  must  confess, 

And  Luna  sails  along  the  blue, 

As  smoothly  as  she  used  to  do. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Look  at  the  pigmies'  haunt !     See,  how 
The  hill,  once  round,  is  pointed  now ! 
I  felt  a  hideous  crash  and  shock : 
Down  from  the  moon  had  fallen  a  rock ; 
And  in  an  instant  made  an  end, 
No  warning  given,  of  foe  and  friend. 
Yet  arts  like  these  I  must  revere, 
Which  in  one  single  night  could  so 
This  mighty  mountain  structure  rear, 
Both  from  above  and  from  below. 

THALES. 

Tush,  tush  !     'Twas  all  a  dream.     That  brood 
So  vile  is  gone,  then  let  them  go  ! 
That  thou  wert  not  their  king  is  good. 


FAUST  367 

But  now  away,  away  with  me, 

To  Ocean's  glorious  Jubilee ! 

There  guests  of  wondrous  kind,  like  thee, 

Expected,  ay,  and  honoured  be.  [They  withdraw. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (clambering  up  on  the  opposite  side). 

Here  I  go  clambering  over  crags  and  rocks, 
Among  the  gnarled  roots  of  ancient  oaks. 
The  vapours  on  my  own  Harz  have  a  flavour 
Of  pitch,  that  much  commends  them  to  my  favour. 
'Tis  next  to  brimstone !     Here,  among  the  Greeks, 
In  vain  for  even  one  sulphurous  whiff  one  seeks. 
Still,  I  should  like  to  find  out  what  the  spell, 
By  which  they  feed  the  pangs  and  fires  of  hell. 

DRYAD. 

In  your  own  land  you  for  a  sage  may  pass, 
Abroad  you're  little  better  than  an  ass. 
'Tis  not  of  home  you  should  be  thinking  here, 
But  how  you  should  the  sacred  oaks  revere ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  harp  on  what  we've  lost ;  —  a  feeble  vice ! 
What  we've  been  used  to's  always  Paradise. 
But  say,  what  three  are  those  in  yonder  den, 
Who  squat  and  cower  in  the  glimmering  shade  ? 

DRYADS. 

They  are  the  Phorkyads.     Go  forward,  then, 
And  speak  to  them,  if  you  be  not  afraid. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  wherefore  not  ?     I  am  bewildered  vastly  ! 
Proud  as  I  am,  even  I  must  needs  avow, 


36S  FAUST 

I  ne'er  have  looked  upon  their  like  till  now, 

Our  hell's  worst  hags  are  not  one  half  so  ghastly ! 

Who  shall  this  hideous  Triad  see, 

Yet  think  there's  aught  repulsive  in 

The  deadliest  of  old  deadly  sin  ? 

We  should  not  suffer  them,  not  we, 

To  cross  the  threshold  of  the  worst 

And  eeriest  of  our  hells  accurst. 

Yet  in  the  land  of  beauty,  here, 

This  antique  land  to  glory  dear, 

They  children  of  the  soil  appear ! 

They  move,  they  scent  me,  it  would  seem, 

Twitter  like  vampire  bats,  and  pipe  and  scream. 

PHOKKYADS. 

Sisters !  the  eye,  quick,  give  it  me  to  spy, 
Who  to  our  temple  dares  approach  so  nigh ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

0  most  revered !  permit  me  to  draw  near, 
And  beg  your  triple  benediction  here! 

1  am  not  quite  a  stranger  —  so,  forgive ! 
Indeed,  I  am  a  distant  relative. 

Gods  of  old  standing  in  my  time  I've  known, 
To  Ops  and  Ehea  made  my  bow  of  yore, 
The  Parcse,  Chaos'  sisters,  and  your  own. 
I  saw  them  last  night,  or  the  night  before ; 
But  such  as  you  have  never  crossed  my  sight. 
I'm  positively  dumb  with  sheer  delight ! 

PHOKKYADS. 

There  seems  some  sense  in  what  this  spirit  says. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  only  wonder  is,  no  bard  has  sung  your  praise ! 
In  statues  I  have  never  seen  you.     Say, 


FAUST  309 

How  comes  this  so,  most  honoured  ones,  if  you  know  ? 
Yours  are  the  forms  the  chisel  should  portray, 
And  not  such  things  as  Venus,  Pallas,  Juno. 

PHORKYADS. 

In  solitude  and  silent  night  inurned, 

Our  thoughts  have  never  on  such  matters  turned. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

How  should  they  ?     Living  from  the  world  retired, 
By  none  can  you  be  seen,  or,  seen,  admired. 
For  that  you  must  a  residence  command, 
Where  art  and  luxury  rule  hand  in  hand ; 
Where  from  a  block  of  marble  —  presto,  hey  !  — 
Starts  into  life  a  hero  every  day ; 
Where  — 

PHORKYADS. 

Peace !     And  wake  in  us  no  yearnings  fond  ! 
What  should  we  gain,  by  knowing  aught  beyond  ? 
In  Night  begot,  and  kin  to  things  of  Night, 
To  ourselves  almost  unknown,  to  others  quite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

This  being  so,  there  is  not  much  to  say ; 
But  you  to  others  may  yourselves  convey. 
One  eye  suffices  for  the  three,  one  tooth, 
And  'twill  comport  with  mythologic  truth 
To  merge  in  two  the  essence  of  the  three, 
And  lend  the  semblance  of  the  third  to  me 
For  some  brief  space. 

ONE   OF   THE    PHORKYADS. 

How  think  ye  ?     Speaks  he  sooth  ? 


37°  FAUST 

THE    OTHERS. 

Let's  try  it.     But  without  the  eye  and  tooth. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Take  these  away,  and  you  the  essence  take, 
For  these  are  what  the  perfect  picture  make. 

ONE   OF    THE    PHORKYADS. 

Press  one  eye  close  !     Tis  very  simply  done  ; 
That's  well !     Now  of  your  dog-teeth  show  but  one ! 
And  you  will  instantly  in  profile  show 
Our  sister  perfectly  from  top  to  toe  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'm  honoured  —  much  !     So  be  it ! 

PHORKYADS. 

So  be  it ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (as  a  phorkyad  in  profile). 

Done! 
Behold  in  me  old  Chaos'  darling  son ! 

PHORKYADS. 

Chaos'  undoubted  daughters  we. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  spite ! 
They'll  scoff  at  me  as  an  hermaphrodite ! 

PHORKYADS. 

Our  new  third  sister  is  surpassing  fair ! 
Of  eyes  we  have,  and  eke  of  teeth  a  pair. 


FAUST  371 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  must  get  out  of  sight,  or  I  know  well 

I'll  scare  the  devils  of  the  nether  hell !  \Exit. 


Scene  VII.  —  Rocky  Bays  of  the  JEgean  Sea.     The 
Moon  pausing  in  the  Zenith. 

SIKENS  (lying  on  the  cliffs  around,  fluting  and  singing). 

Thou  whom  hags  Thessalian  erst, 
By  unholy  spells  rehearsed, 
Drew  from  heaven,  serenely  bright, 
Looking  from  the  vault  of  night, 
With  thy  silvery  radiance  lave 
Every  bright  and  rippling  wave, 
And  illume  yon  wondrous  throng 
Eising  now  the  waves  along. 
Thy  devoted  vassals  we  ; 
Luna  fair,  propitious  be  ! 

neeeids  and  teitons  (as  wonders  of  the  deep). 

Loud  with  shriller  voices  sing, 
Let  them  o'er  broad  ocean  ring, 
All  its  people  summoning  ! 
As  we  lay  within  our  caves, 
Fathom  deep  beneath  the  waves, 
Safe  from  wind  and  stormy  weather, 
Your  sweet  song  has  drawn  us  hither. 
In  our  transports  we,  behold  ! 
Deck  ourselves  with  chains  of  gold, 
Brooch  and  clasp  and  diadem, 
Rich  with  jewel  and  with  gem. 
All  your  fruitage,  all  are  these ! 
Treasures  plucked  from  argosies, 
That  now  wrecked  and  rotting  he, 


372  FAUST 

Lured  to  their  destruction  by 
You,  the  demons  of  our  bay. 

SIRENS. 

Well  we  know  that  in  the  sea 
Fish  live  well  and  merrily, 
Without  pain,  or  care,  or  wish ! 
Still,  ye  throng  so  brisk  and  gay, 
Fain  we'd  like  to  know  to-day 
If  ye're  sometliing  more  than  fish. 

NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

Ere  we  hither  came,  did  we 

Ponder  well  how  things  should  be. 

Brothers,  sisters,  come  !     Not  far 

Is  it  needful  we  should  go, 

Most  conclusively  to  show 

That  we  more  than  fishes  are.  [They  retire. 

SIRENS. 

In  a  twinkling  they 
To  Saniothrace  have  sped  away, 
And  fair  for  them  the  breezes  blow ! 
What  can  they  expect  to  gain 
Where  the  high  Cabiri  reign  ? 
Gods  of  wondrous  kind  are  they, 
Who  beget  themselves  alway, 
And  what  they  are  they  never  know. 
Deign  to  linger  on  thy  heights, 
Gentle  Luna  !     So  the  night's 
Veil  will  tarry,  and  the  day 
Chase  us  not  from  hence  away  ! 

THALES   (on   the  shore   to   HOMUNCULUS). 

Fain  would  I  lead  you  to  old  Nereus !     See, 
His  cavern  must  be  somewhere  hereabout ; 


FAUST  373 

But  such  a  cross-grained  sour  old  carle  is  he, 
It  is  no  easy  thing  to  draw  him  out. 
Churl  that  he  is,  in  his  distorted  sight 
No  mortal  man  is  ever  in  the  right. 
But  unto  him  the  future  is  unveiled, 
So  he  with  reverence  deep  is  hailed, 
And  bears  a  highly  honoured  name. 
To  many,  too,  he  has  been  kind. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

Let's  knock  and  try  him !     I  don't  mind. 
It  will  not  cost  me  both  my  glass  and  flame. 

NEREUS. 

Men's  voices  could  they  be,  my  ear  that  met  ? 

With  wrath  they  stir  my  heart  down  to  its  core : 

Forms  striving  to  attain  to  gods,  and  yet 

Doomed  to  be  like  themselves  for  evermore. 

Long  years  ago,  had  I  like  others  felt, 

In  ease  I  might,  even  like  a  god,  have  dwelt ; 

But  I  was  ever  by  the  wish  possessed, 

To  benefit  the  men  I  deemed  the  best ; 

And  ever  when  I  looked,  in  hopes  to  know 

My  counsels  into  goodly  acts  had  thriven, 

I  found  that  matters  were  the  same  as  though 

My  counsels  never  had  been  given. 

THALES. 

Yet  people  trust  thee,  man  of  ocean  old. 
Most  sage  of  sages,  turn  us  not  away ! 
This  flame,  that  bears  a  human  shape,  behold ! 
Whate'er  you  counsel  him,  he  will  obey. 

NEREUS. 

Counsel !     Has  counsel  e'er  availed  with  men  ? 
The  sagest  saw  falls  dead  on  stubborn  ears. 


374  FAUST 

Oft  as  men's  folly  has  been  mourned  in  tears, 

Wilful  as  ever  they  will  be  again. 

Warned  I  not  Paris  like  a  father,  ere 

His  passion  did  another's  wife  ensnare  ? 

As  bold  he  trod  the  Grecian  shore,  with  awe 

I  told  him  all  that  I  in  vision  saw, — 

Clouds  steaming  up,  with  lurid  light  aglow, 

Charred  rafters,  massacre  and  death  below, 

Troy's  day  of  doom,  immortalised  in  song, 

Beaconing  through  time  the  cur.se  that  waits  on  wrong. 

He  mocked  the  old  man's  words,  the  ribald  boy, 

Obeyed  the  impulse  of  his  lust,  and  Troy, 

A  giant  corpse,  fell,  worn  with  many  a  fray, 

To  Pindus'  eagles  a  right  welcome  prey. 

Ulysses,  too,  foretold  I  not  to  him 

Circe's  dark  wiles,  the  Cyclops'  horrors  grim  ? 

His  own  delays,  the  follies  of  his  train, 

What  not,  besides !     Yet  where  to  him  the  gain  ? 

Till  at  long  last  the  favouring  billows  bore 

The  weary  wanderer  to  a  friendly  shore. 


THALES. 

Such  conduct  to  the  sage  is  fraught  with  pain, 
Yet  his  heart  prompts  him  on  to  fresh  essay. 
Of  thanks  that  glad  his  soul,  one  little  grain 
Will  bushels  of  ingratitude  outweigh. 
For  we  are  here  to  ask  no  trivial  boon : 
The  boy  there  wishes  to  attain,  and  soon, 
To  being,  and  as  sagely  as  he  may. 


NEREUS. 

Mar  not  my  mood  —  'tis  of  no  common  kind ; 
Far  other  matters  now  possess  my  mind. 
My  daughters  I  have  summoned  here  to  me, 
The  Dorides,  the  Graces  of  the  Sea. 


FAUST  375 

Not  on  Olympus,  nor  on  earth  you'll  meet 

With  forms  so  beautiful,  so  moving  sweet. 

From  water  dragons,  with  a  bending  sweep 

Of  subtlest  charm,  on  Neptune's  steeds  they  leap, 

And  with  the  element  so  softly  blend, 

The  foam-flakes  scarce  beneath  them  seem  to  bend. 

'Mid  rainbow  splendours  in  her  shelly  car 

Comes  Galatea,  of  them  all  the  star, 

Of  Paphos  hailed  the  goddess,  since  the  day 

When  Aphrodite  turned  from  us  away ; 

And  so  for  many  a  year,  she  as  her  own 

The  Temple  town  has  claimed,  and  chariot  throne. 

Begone  !     Nor  by  your  questionings  eclipse 

The  solemn  transports  of  a  father's  bliss ; 

I  would  not  have,  in  such  an  hour  as  this, 

Hate  in  my  heart,  nor  fury  on  my  lips. 

Away  to  Proteus  !     Ask  that  being  strange,  — 

He  will  your  purpose  better  serve  than  me,  — 

How  yonder  boy  may  pass  from  change  to  change, 

And  come  at  length  to  be.  [Retires  toward  the  sea. 


THALES. 

We  have  gained  nothing  by  this  step ;  for,  say 

We  light  on  Proteus,  straight  he  melts  away. 

And,  after  all,  he'll  only,  if  he  stays, 

Give  answers  that  bewilder  and  amaze. 

Still,  such  advice  you  lack ;  so,  come  what  may, 

Let's  make  the  trial.     Onward,  then,  away  ! 

[TJiey  retire. 

sirens  (above,  on  the  rocks). 

See,  what  are  these  that  glide 
Far  o'er  the  billowy  tide  ? 
'Tis  as  white  sails  were  nearing, 
By  gentle  breezes  steering, 


376  FAUST 

So  radiantly  they  shine, 
These  ocean-nymphs  divine ! 
Let  us  descend  !     You  hear 
Their  voices  sweet  and  clear. 


NEKEIDS  AND  TRITONS. 

What  we  bring  with  us  to-night 
Shall  content  you  and  delight. 
Flames  a  dread  form  from  the  field 
Of  Chelone's  giant  shield  ; 
Gods  they  be,  whom  here  we  bring : 
Hymns  ye  must  of  glory  sing ! 


SIRENS. 

Great  in  might,  though  small  in  form, 
Such  as  shipwrecked  are  ye  save, 
When  in  thunder  and  in  storm 
Ships  go  down  beneath  the  wave ; 
Gods  in  deepest  reverence  held 
From  the  days  of  primal  eld ! 


NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

We  bring  the  Cabiri  hither,  to  keep 
Peace,  while  we  revel  it  over  the  deep ; 
For  in  their  presence,  so  holy  be  they, 
Neptune  will  gently  exert  his  sway. 


SIRENS. 

Yield  we  must  to  you 
If  a  vessel's  wrecked, 
Ever  ye  her  crew 
Eesistlessly  protect. 


FAUST  377 


NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

Three  we  have  transported  thus ; 
The  fourth  refused  to  come  with  us. 
He  declared  he  was  the  best, 
And  had  to  think  for  all  the  rest. 


SIRENS. 

So  one  god,  it  would  appear, 
Likes  at  other  gods  to  sneer. 
All  that  gracious  are  revere, 
All  that  are  malignant  fear ! 

NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

Seven  of  them  by  rights  there  be. 

SIRENS. 

Where,  then,  are  the  other  three  ? 

NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

To  answer  that  were  no  easy  task. 
For  them  you  may  in  Olympus  ask. 
There  the  Eighth,  too,  you  may  find, 
Who  was  never  in  anybody's  mind. 
Their  grace  we  have  and  hope  to  get, 
But  they  are  not  all  complete  as  yet. 
These  Incomparables  still 

On  and  on  aspire, 
For  the  Unattainable 

Hungering  with  desire. 

SIRENS. 

'Tis  our  custom,  evermore 
Every  throne  to  bow  before, 


378  FAUST 

In  the  Sun  and  in  the  Moon, 
There  to  worship  and  adore  ; 
It  repays  us  late  or  soon. 

NEREIDS    AND    TRITONS. 

How  must  our  fame  transcendent  be, 
The  leaders  of  this  Jubilee  ! 

SIRENS. 

The  heroes  of  the  olden  time 
Eeached  not  a  glory  so  sublime, 
How  high  soe'er  their  fame  may  run. 
If  they  the  Golden  Fleece  have  won, 
You,  you  have  the  Cabiri ! 

UNIVERSAL    CHORUS. 

If  they  the  Golden  Fleece  have  won, 

ttt  I  have  the  Cabiri ! 

We,  we     \ 

HOMUNCULUS. 

To  me  these  uncouth  shapes  are  like 
Vile  earthen  pots  :  by  token, 
Sages  their  heads  against  them  strike, 
And,  though  hard,  get  them  broken. 

THALES. 

That's  just  the  thing  they  long  for  !     Just 
As  coin  takes  value  from  the  rust. 

proteus  (invisible). 

Such  shows  delight  a  fabler  old  like  me ; 
More  prized  the  more  preposterous  they  be. 


FAUST  379 

THALES. 

Where  art  thou,  Proteus  ? 

pkoteus  (ventriloquially ,  now  near,  now  far  off). 

Here,  and  here ! 

THALES. 

I  pardon  you  the  stale  old  joke. 

I  am  a  friend  —  no  mocking  insincere ! 

I  know  you  sham  the  place  from  which  you  spoke. 

pkoteus  (as  from  a  distance). 
Farewell ! 

thales  (whispers  to  the  homunculus). 

He's  close  at  hand  !     Flame  out  now  !     Whish  ! 
He  is  as  curious  as  a  fish, 
And,  wheresoever  he  may  hide, 
Your  blaze  will  lure  him  to  your  side. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

I'll  pour  a  flood  of  light  —  but  gently  though, 
Or  into  splinters,  crack !  my  glass  will  go. 

PROTEUS  (in  the  form  of  a  gigantic  tortoise). 
What  sheds  a  light  so  soft  and  bright  ? 

thales  (concealing  the  homunculus). 

Good !  good !     Come  nearer,  if  you'd  see't. 
Don't  grudge  the  trouble,  'tis  but  slight  S 
And  show  yourself  upon  two  human  feet. 
Tis  by  our  grace  and  leave  alone, 
That  what  we've  hidden  will  be  shown. 


380  FAUST 

PROTEUS. 

You  have  not  lost  your  skill  in  dodges  clever. 

THALES. 

Of  changing  shapes  you're  quite  as  fond  as  ever. 

[Uncovers  the  Homunculus. 

proteus  (amazed). 
A  luminous  dwarf !     Was  never  such  sight  ?     Never  ! 

THALES. 

He  wants  advice  from  you,  for  he  would  fain 

To  being  real  and  complete  attain. 

He  came  into  the  world,  I've  heard  him  say, 

Only  by  half  in  some  mysterious  way. 

With  gifts  of  spirit  he  is  dowried  well, 

But  sorely  lacks  in  what  is  tangible. 

As  now  the  glass  there  only  gives  him  weight, 

He  with  all  speed  would  be  incorporate. 

PROTEUS. 

A  real  virgin's  son  art  thou ; 

Thou  art  before  thou  ought  to  be,  somehow. 

THALES  (in  a  whisper). 

In  other  ways,  methinks,  all  is  not  right. 
He  is,  I  fancy,  an  hermaphrodite. 

PROTEUS. 

So  much  the  better,  since  in  every  case 
He's  sure  to  find  himself  not  out  of  place. 
But  much  reflection  here  no  good  will  do, 
In  the  wide  sea  you  must  begin  anew ! 


FAUST  33 i 

There  in  the  little  things  commence, 
And  on  the  less  delight  to  feed : 
So  by  degrees  you  grow,  and  thence 
To  higher  excellence  succeed. 

HOMUNCULUS. 

The  air  blows  sweet  and  softly  here.     The  dew 
Thrills  me  with  rapture  through  and  through. 

PROTEUS. 

Eight,  right,  my  pretty  youth  !     And  you, 
As  you  go  on,  will  fmd  it  sweeter  still. 
On  this  small  tongue  of  land  the  dew 
Exhales  a  vapour  more  ineffable. 
See  right  in  front  yon  wondrous  train, 
That's  wafted  hither  o'er  the  main ! 
Come  with  me  to  them  ! 

THALES. 

Take  me  too ! 

HOMUNCULUS. 

A  wondrous  ghostly  three  are  we  to  view ! 

TELCHINES    OF    RHODES. 

Upon  Hippocampi  and  Sea-dragons,  bearing  Neptune's 

Trident. 

CHORUS. 

The  trident  of  Neptune  we  forged,  that  at  will 

The  angriest  waves  of  the  ocean  can  still. 

If  the  Thund'rer  his  storm-clouds  unrolls  overhead, 

Straight  Neptune  opposes  their  armament  dread ; 

And  as  down  from  above  lightning  quivers  and  flashes, 

So  up  from  below  wave  after  wave  dashes ; 


382  FAUST 

And  the  bark,  that  in  anguish  'twixt  billow  and  blast 
Has  been  tossed  to  and  fro,  is  sucked  down  at  the  last ; 
Then  as  he  has  lent  us  his  sceptre  to-day, 
Serene  and  at  ease  let  us  gambol  and  play ! 


SIRENS. 

Hail,  ye  priests  of  Helios,  hail, 
Blest  ones  of  the  cheerful  day, 

Now  whilst  we  to  Luna  pale 
Our  devoted  homage  pay  ! 


TELCHINES. 

Fair  queen  of  the  bow  that  shines  o'er  us  so  bright, 

Thou  hearest  thy  brother  extolled  with  delight ! 

To  Khodes  the  high-favoured  thine  ear  thou  dost  lend, 

Whence  unto  him  Paeans  eternal  ascend. 

He  begins  the  day's  course,  and  on  us  at  its  close 

A  long  level  glance  keen  and  fiery  he  throws. 

The  mountains,  the  cities,  the  shore,  and  the  wave, 

Give  delight  to  the  god,  and  are  beauteous  and  brave. 

No  mist  hangs  around  us,  and  if  one  comes  near, 

A  zephyr,  a  beam,  and  our  island  is  clear ! 

In  manifold  shapes  he  beholds  himself  there, 

As  stripling,  as  giant,  as  mighty,  as  fair. 

We,  we  were  the  first  did  such  beings  divine 

In  the  forms,  not  unworthy,  of  mortals  enshrine ! 


PROTEUS. 

Let  them  sing,  and  let  them  boast ! 
Dead  works  are  a  jest,  at  most, 
Beside  the  sun's  life-giving  rays ; 
They  melt  and  mould,  and  when  at  last 
Their  handiwork  in  brass  is  cast, 
Straightway  they  riot  in  its  praise. 


FAUST  383 

But  what's  the  end  of  all  their  vaunted  show 
These  images  of  gods  renowned, 
An  earthquake  hurled  them  to  the  ground ; 
And  they've  been  melted  down  long,  long  ago. 

The  throes  of  earth,  or  past  or  present, 

Are  always  anything  but  pleasant. 

life  in  the  billows  better  fares ; 

Thee  to  the  eternal  waters  bears 

The  Dolphin  Proteus.     (Transforms  himself)     See,  'tis 

done ! 
There  will  you  thrive  in  all  you  try : 
So  leap  upon  my  back,  and  I 
Will  wed  you  to  the  deep  anon ! 

THALES. 

Yield  to  the  noble  aspiration 

Of  new-commencing  your  creation. 

Prepare  for  mighty  effort  now ! 

By  laws  eternal  move,  and  thou, 

Through  countless  changes  having  passed, 

Shalt  rise  into  a  man  at  last. 

[Homunculus  mounts  the  Proteus-dolphin. 

PEOTEUS. 

In  spirit  hence  to  ocean  wide ! 
Unfettered  there  shalt  thou  abide, 
There  roam  as  blithe  as  free ; 
But  yearn  not  for  a  higher  state, 
For,  once  as  man  incorporate, 
All's  over  then  with  thee. 

THALES. 

That's  as  things  chance :  it  is  a  fine  thing,  too, 
To  be  a  proper  man  in  season  due. 


384  FAUST 

PROTEUS  (to  THALES). 

If  of  your  stamp  he  be,  perchance  it  may. 
You  are  no  fleeting  creature  of  a  day ; 
For  'tis  now  many  hundred  years,  since  I 
'Mongst  the  pale  ghosts  first  saw  you  trooping  by. 


sirens  (on  the  rocks). 

Lo,  what  clouds  are  yonder  streaming 

Round  the  moon  in  circlet  bright ! 
Doves  they  are,  love-kindled,  gleaming, 

Pinioned  as  with  purest  light. 
Paphos  forth  has  sent  them,  glowing 

Harbingers  of  love  and  joy ; 
Perfect  is  our  feast,  o'erfl  owing 

Full  with  bliss  without  alloy ! 


nereus  (advancing  to  thales). 

Eoamers  through  the  night  might  deem 

Yonder  halo  merely  haze, 

But  we  spirits  know  the  gleam, 

Hail  it  with  a  wiser  gaze. 

They  are  doves,  that  round  my  child 

In  her  shelly  chariot  fly, 

Wondrous  is  their  flight  and  wild, 

Learned  in  ages  long  gone  by. 


thales. 

I  too  look  on  that  as  best 
Which  to  good  men  pleasure  gives, 
When  in  warm  and  cosy  nest 
Something  holy  haunts  and  lives. 


FAUST  385 

PSYLLI  AND  maesi  (on  sea-bulls,  sea-calves,  and  rams). 

In  Cyprus'  wild  cave-recesses, 

Where  the  god  of  the  sea  annoys  not, 

Where  Seisinos  shakes  and  destroys  not, 

Where  the  breeze  evermore  wafts  caresses 

There  Cypris's  chariot,  the  golden, 

We  watch,  as  we  watched  in  the  olden 

Days,  in  contentment  serene  ; 

And  our  fairest  we  bring  in  the  hushing 

Of  night,  o'er  the  rippling  waves  rushing, 

In  the  bloom  of  her  loveliness  flushing, 

By  the  new  race  of  mortals  unseen. 

Our  duty  thus  silently  plying, 

Nor  eagle,  nor  yet  winged  lion, 

Dismays  us,  nor  cross,  no,  nor  crescent ; 

However,  through  changes  incessant, 

On  earth  they  may  fool  it,  and  rule  it, 

Now  hither,  now  thitherward  swaying, 

Pursuing,  and  smiting,  and  slaying, 

Waste  cities  and  harvest-fields  laying, 

'Tis  ever  our  care 

To  herald  our  mistress,  the  matchlessly  fair. 

SIEENS. 

Through  the  waves  serenely  cleaving, 

Circling  round  the  car  divine, 
And  like  serpents  interweaving, 

Row  on  row,  and  line  on  line, 
Speed  ye  onwards,  stately  gliding, 

Ocean's  daughters,  pleasing  wild, 
With  your  Galatea  guiding, 

All  her  mother  in  my  child ! 
Grave  is  she,  of  godlike  seeming, 

As  of  an  immortal  race, 
Yet  like  gentle  human  women, 

Sweet,  and  of  alluring  grace. 


386  FAUST 

dorides  (passing  in  chorus  before  nereus,  clustering 

upon  dolphins). 

Luna,  shine,  thy  radiance  pouring 

Round  this  flower  of  youth,  for  here 
To  our  sire  we  bring,  imploring 

His  good-will,  our  bridegrooms  dear ! 

[To  Nereus. 
Boys  we  rescued  when  the  billow 

Whelmed  them  in  the  tempest's  wrack ; 
Couching  them  on  rushy  pillow, 

We  to  life  caressed  them  back  ! 
Now  with  kisses  to  delight  us, 

Kisses  all  of  fire,  must  they 
For  the  life  we  gave  requite  us  ; 

View  them,  then,  with  grace,  we  pray  ! 

NEREUS. 

The  twofold  gain  who  would  not  highly  treasure, 
In  doing  others  grace,  to  do  himself  a  pleasure  ? 

DORIDES. 

Father,  did  we  well  ?     To  hold  them, 

Grant  us,  so  shall  we  be  blest : 
All  undying  let  us  fold  them 

To  our  ever-youthful  breast. 

nereus. 

Would  you  enjoy  your  lovely  prey, 

Then  mould  each  stripling  to  a  man ; 
But  children,  know,  I  never  may 

Bestow  what  Zeus,  Zeus  only,  can. 
The  wave,  on  which  you're  swept  and  tossed, 

Makes  love,  too,  changeful  evermore : 
If  on  their  hearts  your  hold  be  lost, 

Best  set  them  quietly  on  shore ! 


FAUST  387 


DORIDES. 


Sweet  boys,  we  love  ye  well,  but  soon 
From  you,  alas  !  must  sever ; 

The  gods  deny  the  wished-for  boon, 
A  love  that  loves  for  ever. 


THE    YOUTHS. 

Still  love  and  tend  us,  and  your  own 

Stout  ship-boys  will  not  falter ; 
Such  goodly  cheer  we  ne'er  have  known, 

Nor  would  for  better  alter. 

[Galatea  approaches  in  the  shell  chariot. 

NEREUS. 

My  darling ! 

GALATEA. 

O  father,  what  ecstasy  ! 
Stay,  dolphins,  stay !     My  gaze  is  riveted  by  thee  ! 

NEREUS. 

Already  are  they  passed,  already  gone, 
In  sweeping  circles  steering  o'er  the  ocean ; 
What  is  to  them  the  yearning  heart's  emotion  ? 
Oh,  would  that  I  with  them  were  sailing  on ! 
Yet  in  that  one  brief  glance  is  such  delight, 
As  doth  the  long  year's  yearning  well  requite ! 

THALES. 

Hail !  hail !  hail  evermore  ! 

With  joy  I  am  brimming  o'er, 

Each  fibre  and  nerve,  through  and  through 

By  the  Beautiful  pierced,  and  the  True ! 

From  water  sprang  all  things,  and  all 

Are  by  water  upheld  or  must  fall. 


388  FAUST 

Then,  ocean,  grant  thou  for  our  aiding 

Thine  influence  ever-pervading ! 

If  by  thee  the  clouds  were  disspread  not, 

If  by  thee  the  rich  brooklets  were  shed  not, 

If  by  thee  the  streams  all  ways  were  sped  not, 

And  the  rush  of  the  torrents  were  fed  not, 

What  then  were  the  universe,  mountain  and  plain  ? 

'Tis  thou  dost  all  life  that  is  freshest  maintain ! 


ECHO. 

Chorus  of  the  whole  circle. 
'Tis  from  thee  flows  all  life  that  is  freshest  amain. 


NEEEUS. 

Already  they  are  far  from  shore, 

Meet  me  eye  to  eye  no  more  ! 

On  they  speed,  a  countless  train, 

All  in  festival  array, 

In  a  long  extended  chain, 

Winding,  circling  on  their  way. 

But  my  Galatea's  car, 

Still  I  see  it  sharp  and  bright ! 

It  is  shining  like  a  star 

Through  them  all  upon  the  sight ! 

That  dear  cynosure  is  steeped  in  light ! 

Though  it  be  removed  so  far, 

Still  it  shimmers  bright  and  clear, 

Ever  true  and  ever  near  ! 


HOMUNCULUS. 

'Mid  these  waters  soft  and  bright, 
All  whereon  I  flash  my  light 
Is  bewitching  fair  ! 


FAUST  389 


PROTEUS. 

'Mid  these  waters  living  bright, 
For  the  first  time  gleams  thy  light 
With  a  music  rare  ! 


NEREUS. 

But  lo  !  what  fresh  mystery  yonder  between 
The  groups  of  the  children  of  ocean  is  seen  ? 
What  flames  round  the  car,  round  my  darling  one's 

feet? 
Now  wildly  it  flashes,  now  softly,  now  sweet, 
As  if  with  love's  passionate  pulses  it  beat ! 


THALES. 

Tis  Homunculus,  blinded  by  Proteus'  deceit ! 
The  symptons  are  these  of  a  yearning  intense ; 
Soon  the  cry  shall  be  heard  of  an  agonised  moan : 
He  will  shatter  his  glass  on  the  radiant  throne. 
Now  it  flames,  now  it  lightens,  now  pours  forth  im- 
mense. 

SIRENS. 

What  fiery  marvel  illumines  the  sea, 

Where  wave  breaks  on  wave  in  sparkles  of  light  ? 

It  so  lightens,  and  brightens,  and  flashes,  that  we 

See  their  forms  all  aglow  as  they  move  through  the 

night, 
And  flames  round  them  eddy  and  glimmer  and  gleam. 
Then  be  Eros,  of  all  the  Beginner,  supreme ! 

Hail,  ye  ocean  billows,  bound 
With  zone  of  holy  fire  around ! 
Water,  hail !     Hail,  fire  !     Hail,  all 
Doings  strange  that  here  befall ! 


39°  FAUST 


GENEEAL  CHORUS. 


Hail,  ye  breezes,  blowing  free  ! 
Hail,  ye  caves  of  mystery  ! 
You  we  praise,  and  you  adore, 
Mighty  elemental  Four ! 


END   OF   VOLUME   I. 


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